The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel
by HosekiDragon
Summary: AU. Dean Winchester does not do long term relationships, he's never courted anyone longer than a week. But an angel in a bookstore just might change his mind. Even if there are some dark secrets in their pasts.
1. Chapter 1

_Whoa, what's this? A full length Destiel fic from HosekiDragon? Unheard of!_

_Anyway, here's how this is gonna work. AU, demons, angels, shifters, werewolves, etc. are called Unnaturals and live out in broad daylight and have the same rights as everyone else (in some places). Demons aren't really from hell but have the appearance of something from hell and are thus called such. Same goes for angels. I think that covers everything._

_Any questions? No. Good. Then let's get started. _

_Content: DeanxCas, SamxJess, wing!kink, tail!kink, possibly oil gland!kink_

* * *

**The Title of this Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter One**

* * *

Dean Winchester did not like bookstores.

And bookstores generally felt the same way about Dean Winchester. There was no segregation between humans and Unnaturals on Empyrean but some races stood out a little more than others. Werewolves, skinwalkers, witches, and the like could blend in well enough but demons, like Dean, fae, and angels stood out more. Extra appendages like wings and tails, horns and claws, tended to do that.

Dean's long, thin tail was currently rolled up against his back, the spade on its tip flared in his agitation. The tail position was partly because he didn't want to knock any displays over and partly because he was frustrated with his younger brother.

"Quit looking like you're about to be attacked." Sam Winchester scoffed, his own tail uncurling to prod his brother in the side, "No one's going to take a stab at us, we're in a bookstore."

Dean scratched at the base of one of his horns, small compared to his brother's curling ones, "Why'd you drag me along with you again, Giantopolos?"

Sam bitchfaced at him (Number 23: 'stop being so immature and act your age while we're in public') and turned away with a huff. Even though he was younger than Dean, Sam was at least a head taller than his older brother. If his height wasn't intimidating enough, he had a pair of black and redish-brown bat-like wings folded carefully behind his back and his tail was thicker than Dean's, his shoulders broader. To be fair Dean was, in his own right, a tough looking demon with jagged dark gray horns, piercing green eyes, and a whip-thin tail that could snap out at lightning speed if it needed to. But where Dean paraded himself around proudly, Sam was more conservative.

He was a law student, working towards his degree with a steady stubbornness that Dean would never openly admit to being proud of. And if there wasn't some form of irony in a demon becoming a lawyer, than Dean was straighter than a straightedge (bi, actually, with a flare for the dangerous and dramatic).

"Just help me find some books for class." Sam thrust a paper under Dean's nose, pulling his brother up short, "They should be in the somewhere over by the 'How To' stuff. I'm going to the 'Political Sciences' section. Don't do anything to piss anybody off."

Dean snatched the paper out of Sam's hand, making a face, "I'll do what I want, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam snapped back playfully and walked away before Dean could get another word in. The eldest Winchester snorted and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, trotting off through the shelves to the 'How To' part of the bookstore.

It wasn't hard to find, only a few paces away from the checkout desk that lined the wall in front of a display of new releases and ridiculously fancy bookmarks. Dean's gaze immediately fell on a rather questionable looking book and pulled a hand out of his pocket to reach for it. Unfortunately, this sent the paper Sam had given him drifting to the floor. The demon spun to catch it, missed, and had to bend over to scoop it off the thinly carpeted floor. His tail curled in even tighter in his irritation and the spade on the end flared even wider.

Dean turned back around and found a pair of eyes on him.

It was for the briefest of seconds, barely a breath of a look, but Dean Winchester knew when someone was checking him out and that dark-haired man behind the counter had _definitely_ been checking him out. But, of course, Dean being Dean, he pretended not to notice. He half turned, watching the man out of the corner of his eye, and started searching for the books Sam wanted. He let his tail unfurl slowly, rolling all the way down to the floor and then back up to his waist again like a yo-yo in slow motion. He could feel the other watching him.

Dean grabbed one of the books of the shelf, checked it against the list, and then turned, intending to face the other bookshelf. Except that he made the mistake of glancing at the man behind the counter. And froze.

A pair of wide, impossibly blue eyes stared at him underneath a scruffy mop of black hair. A blink, a pink tinge creeping up pale cheeks, and then the man behind the counter had ducked away in a flurry of blue-black feathers.

Dean blinked several times and looked around but the man—the _angel_—was nowhere in sight. Shaking his head and frowning a little, he made to turn back to the bookshelf…and found himself face-to-face with his towering younger brother.

"Sam! What the hell!"

Sam was grinning and it was almost a mirror of that shit-eating grin that Dean used to antagonize people he didn't like. Dean didn't like it either. At all.

"What?" The older brother grunted, shifting his weight back and forth.

"I saw you checking that angel out." Sam teased, a stack of books under one arm, the end of his tail flicking up and down against the floor.

Dean growled in the back of his throat, shoved the book he was holding at his younger brother, and turned away, making sure his own tail smacked across Sam's ankles as he went. Sam only chuckled and grabbed another couple of books of the shelf. He only teased his brother because (aside from it being the brotherly thing to do) Dean had teased him so much when Sam had hooked up with Jess. Well, that and Dean's relationships never usually lasted past the bedroom. The current record was a week.

It wasn't that Dean was mean or horrible to his partners, he just couldn't commit. He said he didn't want to be tied down but Sam figured it was because he was scared. Dean just wanted to make everybody happy and he was very close to his family. Picking a mate seemed like a responsibility to him and, if Sam had his theories right, Dean just didn't know how to make a commitment on that level.

But these were Sam Theories and for all Sam knew, maybe Dean actually _didn't_ want to be tied down.

"Are you going to come up to the checkout with me or are you going to keep skulking behind the shelves like a teenaged girl?" Sam asked as he hefted up his armful of books. It was something of an amusing sight, an extremely tall demon with thick, red-black horns curved almost like those of a ram standing there with a stack of books to help him study law. Dean would have laughed if he'd been in the mood for it.

Instead, he plucked a book off the shelf and flipped it open with a bored look on his face, "Nope. I'll just wait here for you. And I'm not skulking."

"Whatever." Sam rolled his eyes, rustled his wings and headed over to the checkout. Dean watched him over the top of the book in his hands, careful to stay at the corner of the bookshelf so he could duck quickly behind it if necessary. There were only two clerks on duty and the other was busy which meant Sam was left with the angel.

He wasn't really an angel like from Heaven, just like Dean and Sam weren't really demons from Hell. But appearances make an impact on humans and the names stuck. It wasn't a burden, really, because people had generally learned by now that just because something was named a demon didn't make it evil and just because something was named an angel, it didn't make it good.

Dean watched as the angel let the barest hint of a smile cross his features, really it was more a twitch of the lips, a courtesy towards a customer that definitely didn't reach those ice chip blue eyes. Sam said something, his tail twisting into a spiral behind one leg, and the angel said something in return, nodding as he did so. He heard Sam laugh and for some reason felt like it was at his expense. The angel clerk scanned the books in, nodding at Sam's laugh, typed something up on the computer, and then said something else. Sam shook his head and scratched one of his horns. The angel's gaze flickered briefly up to those horns and then he said something else, pausing in his work for the briefest of seconds. Dean's green eyes lingered on the way the angel's fingers hovered over the keyboard. Sam rubbed a hand over one horn and said something in reply, his tail untwisting and swaying down to his ankles. The angel's head canted to the side, his eyebrows drawing in just a hair, and spark flickering in those blue eyes just enough to make him look curious and slightly confused. Dean's own tail rippled and wound itself around and around his leg, tightening into the fabric of his jeans.

Okay, this really had to _stop_.

He deliberately stepped behind the shelf, shoved the book back into its place, and stared very hard at a display with a bunch of books depicting boring politicians with smiles promising better times that never came. He stared at them hard, looking at every ugly wrinkle and strand of grey hair until his tail unwound itself from his leg and resumed its default position of hanging down in a slight S-curve, the spade slightly flared and pointing up towards the ceiling.

"Hey Dean—."

"God fucking damn it, Sammy!" Dean leapt a good half a foot in the air, arms flailing as he spun around in agitation to face his brother.

Sam cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the display of political biographies before looking back at Dean, "Thinking about dating politicians now, Dean?"

"Just trying to decide which one's ugliest." The snort that came from Sam was one of disbelief so of course Dean was required to tack on an insult, "So far, none of them are quite as ugly as you."

Bitchface Number 40 appeared ('that was lame and totally uncalled for') and Dean smirked, figuring he'd just won a round. Without looking back at the checkout counter and firmly telling himself that there was totally _not_ a pair of blue eyes watching him saunter away, Dean started for the exit, sticking a hand in the pocket of his jeans and fondling the keys to his car. Sam hurried after him, plastic bag full of books thumping against his leg, and together the two brothers stepped out into the overcast afternoon.

The last dregs of summer had finally let go and been blown away by the crisp fall wind and as the cold fingers promising frost sought to bite through their clothes, Sam opened his wings slightly to catch the draft. It made the membranes between the boney fingers stretch and bulge and Dean glanced at him before returning his attention to the black Chevy Impala he was unlocking. He slid into the driver's seat, tail sliding up to curl against the inside of the door, and then waited for Sam to get in after him. His younger brother stuffed the bag of books into the back seat, carefully folded up his wings, and ducked into the car. He shifted slightly, trying to get the ends of his wings to hang of the sides of the seats, and finally leaned back and gave Dean a nod.

Brocas Helm was singing about lovers of the dark stepping into the light as Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Sam propped his elbow at the bottom of the window and put his chin in his hand, staring out as the world flashed by. Dean drummed his fingers against the wheel in time to the music, occasionally bursting out to sing along with his favorite parts of a song. Sam waited until they were well on their way home before he spoke over top of Def Leppard proclaiming that the rock of ages was indeed still rolling.

"His name's Castiel."

Dean immediately knew what he was talking about but decided to play dumb and pretended he was entirely too focused on the road, "Huh?"

"The angel at the checkout, his name is Castiel."

Dean grunted and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Def Leppard proudly announced that they had a fever for which there was no cure. The spade on the end of Sam's tail gently tapped the inside of the passenger door.

"I think he like—."

"Do you want me to drop you off at Jessica's?" Dean asked louder than necessary and glared at the back of the car in front of them when Sam snorted.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the journey home.

* * *

Dean dropped the keys of his apartment into the dish on the counter and threw his jacket over the back of a chair with a loud, unashamed yawn. Not that there was anyone around to care, Dean lived by himself since Sam had left to live either on campus or at his fiancé's place. He didn't mind, having space to himself was liberating. It meant things like walking around in nothing but his boxers (or nothing at all, if he wished), it meant things like making waffles at three in the morning with no one to whine about it, it meant things like taking home any partners he wants and having as much noisy sex as he wants and not have a younger brother yelling at him through the walls.

Still, the apartment was built for two and sometimes when he passed that empty bedroom he was reminded of it.

But Dean was definitely, _definitely_ not lonely.

The demon plucked a beer from the fridge, turned around, slammed the door shut with a well placed kicked, and wedged the tip of his tail under the cap to pop it off. This taken care of, he moved from the kitchen into the living room and flopped into his favorite spot on the worn out, gray-brown couch. The television flickered to life, catching the end of the news as it petered down to stories about cute pet tricks and people repainting old houses to rejuvenate their declining neighborhoods, and Dean put his feet up on the coffee table, relaxing back against the cushions with his beer in hand. He let out a long sigh, letting that breath drag out all the aches and pains and frustrations of the day, sucking them from the depths of his belly and spilling them into the open air so they could simply disappear.

A certain pair of blue eyes did not.

Dean frowned and took a swig of his beer, watching with a furrowed brow as the six 'o 'clock news jingle faded out into a commercial about Empryean grown food and the benefits of farming locally. Thinking about someone he hadn't even spoken to was not Dean Winchester norm.

Dean and Sam had been born and raised in Empyrean, a culturally diverse continent where Unnaturals and humans got along with relative ease in something that could be called peace. Across the ocean, on Achreon, Unnaturals were treated as lower class and used as slaves. History classes in high school had taught them that Empyrean and Achreon used to be at war, fighting for or against the rights of millions of Unnaturals. In the end, the fighting grew too intense and a treaty was established between the two continents.

It basically said: You stay out of our business and we'll stay out of yours.

There were still tension there but everyone turned their backs on what was happening on the other side of the ocean and pretended nothing was going on. Dean had met people—humans and Unnaturals alike—who had come from Achreon and it always struck him how strangely different they were from Empyrians. There was something stiff and formal and snobbish about the humans, something quiet and unsettled and submissive about the Unnaturals, a taste in the air around them both that made Dean's tail curl. Sam didn't like them either but he was too much of a nice guy to ever say it out loud.

Another gulp of beer and Dean was trying his hardest to focus on the progressive crime show that had reared its head across the television screen. But he could never get into progress crime shows—Douches who wore sunglasses at night? Come on!—and it was a Sunday night which meant Monday morning when he woke up.

He would pretend to care about the serial killer offing pretty girls who didn't know better than to wander into dark alleys alone at night, finish off his beer, and turn in for the evening. And he would not spend the night thinking about blue-black feathers and cerulean ice chip eyes.

And his tail was totally not curling up around his leg again.


	2. Chapter 2

_By the way, Empyrean means "belonging to or deriving from heaven" and Achreon is one of the rivers of Hades from Greek mythology. _

_Yeah, I know. I'd like to think I'm clever too._

_And you guys get two chapters because you saw most of the first chapter in the preview I posted on "Wings and Things". Enjoy!  
_

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Mondays were Mondays for a reason.

Mondays were the beginning of a tiring stretch of five days of labor, Mondays were groans and grumbles and spitfires, Mondays were long, Mondays were relentless and unforgivable and unrelenting beasts.

Mondays were when all hell breaks loose.

Mondays were the easiest day of Dean Winchester's work week.

He didn't need to be in until after twelve but he arrived half an hour early because if he didn't, everything would be a disaster. He oversees the cleaning that comes after the lunch rush, makes sure that everything in the storage closet is where it's supposed to be, double checks his plans for the day, and then has just enough time to change and get ready for his first batch.

The kids that come in after lunch time have been, and always will be, the rowdiest.

"Teeeennn hut!" Dean shouted, voice echoing against around the gymnasium. Some of the kids puttered around to try and get into a line but most of them continued to tussle and giggle and scream. Dean's tail rippled and he brought his whistle to his lips, taking in a deep breath and giving two short blasts that pierced through the din.

There was an immediate scramble to obey and in a manner of seconds all of the students were lined up in a somewhat crooked line that marked the halfway point in the basketball court painted into the floor. Dean marched right up to them, a rag-tag assembly of humans and nonhumans, all twelve of them seven or eight years old, all of them under Dean's care for the next half hour or so, and all of them willing to listen to the coolest gym teacher ever.

It helped that the whistle practically made him their god.

"Soooo, I was thinking about having you guys climb The Rope today." Dean said with a wide smile, knowing exactly what kind of reaction this would get.

And the kids did not disappoint. As if on cue, every single one of them let out a groan and slumped their shoulders. Dean's smile widened and the spade on his tail tapped against the hard floor.

"I thought you might say that. So here's what we're going to do instead," He made a big show of pulling his clipboard out from under his arm and running a finger down the paper clamped to it. It was really a list of attendance but the kids didn't need to know that, "Today we're going toooooo play dodgeball!"

There was a excited squeal from the kids and Dean had to huff into his whistle a couple of times to calm them down. He counted them off—1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2—and sent each team to either side of the court. Then he tugged a net bag full of soft, slightly pockmarked, nerf balls from the storage closet, lined them all up on the halfway line, stepped back, and blew his whistle. A scream of tiny voices and a pounding of tiny sneakers later, the kids were running all over the gym, each team hurling balls at the other team.

Dean smirked and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched them. His long tail swayed pendulum style back and forth at his ankles as his green eyes followed the mini-war going on all over the court. A flash of tiny powder blue wings and a burst of down caught his attention and he shouted,

"Matthew! If I catch you trying to fly again, you can go right to the principle's office! You know the rules!"

The harpy-child in question stared at him as innocently as he could and then disappeared into the gaggle of children all squabbling over the balls rolling across the court. Dean shook his head and reached up to scratch the base of one of his horns, scowling at the dead horn grit that drifted to the floor at the motion. He needed to clean his horns and his tail; partners wouldn't go for a guy with flaky horns and a dirty tail.

And of course, as soon as he began to think about partners, his mind unhelpfully reminded him the clerk at the bookstore yesterday.

Biting his lip hard and scraping his shoulders against the uneven brick of the gym walls, Dean tried his best to make himself uncomfortable. It would do no good for him to start displaying signals in front of children, even if they didn't know what they meant (there would be the whole going home to their parents and asking and then there would be awkward questions and awkward situations and nobody wanted that). His tail was already curled loosely around his ankle, any farther and it would start getting in his way. Dean needed to move quickly if one of the kids was in trouble.

Like now for instance.

A sudden burst of tears and a cry of pain had Dean away from the wall and across the court in seconds. The moment he had stepped foot inside the boundaries of the hard black lines, all ball throwing had ceased and the children had stopped where they were. All eyes were on a little human girl sprawled on the floor, sobbing and sniffling and clutching at the hem of her little yellow skirt. Dean crouched down beside her and swept his tail around to curl behind her back.

"Are you all right, Lisa? Want to tell me where it hurts?"

Lisa sniffed and hiccupped and scrubbed a sticky hand over her face before muttering, "A ball hit my face."

"This ball?" Dean picked up the one that was nearby and held it out. Lisa nodded and her lip wobbled, "Well, obviously this ball is a bad ball, a mean, nasty ball." Lisa nodded again, looking a little better, "And it needs to punished, doesn't it?" Another nod, "Want me to show you how to punish a bad ball?" Nod, "Okay, here's what you do."

Dean sat back on his haunches, held the nerf ball in both hands, and clenched his fingers down into its soft surface. The foamy ball bent and warped under his grip and Dean made a show of growling at it and telling it was a bad and naughty ball and that it was going to be put in timeout. Then he relaxed his grip and held the ball out to Lisa,

"Now you do it."

Lisa took the ball and, with a lot less force coming from her tiny fingers, gripped it as tightly as she could, trying to mimic the growling noises she had heard Dean made. When she'd had her fill, she held the ball back out to Dean with a wet smile on her face. Dean took it back gently,

"Remember, you only do this to the squishy balls, okay? You don't do that to people. Now I'm going to take this ball and put it in timeout, all right? Do you need to go see the nurse?"

Lisa shook her head, "No, Mr. W."

Dean smiled and pushed himself to his feet, holding out a free hand so that Lisa could grab it and pull herself up too, "Do you want to keep playing?" A nod, "All right then." Dean backed off the court, let his green eyes sweep over the rest of the kids to make sure everything was still all right, and then blew into his whistle.

The chaos unfolded all over again and Dean sighed, gently kneading the nerf ball between his fingers. The distraction had been helpful, if unwelcome (Dean never liked to see kids getting hurt). But already, in the back of his mind somewhere, his stupid brain was trying to come up with excuses to go back to the bookstore.

Dean swore to himself that he wouldn't use any of them.

* * *

Two hours later he was kicking himself all the way through the doors of said bookstore.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and lingered awkwardly by the Science Fiction display, not really knowing what he was doing. It wasn't like he stalked—_observed_, safely, harmlessly observed—people on a regular basis. Dean wasn't a people watcher. It seemed he was doing a lot of things off-kilter lately.

Maybe if he just _talked_ to the guy—to Castiel, he recalled—he would realize that the angel wasn't all Dean's fantasizing brain was cracking him up to be and it would all be a huge misunderstanding and his tail would kindly stop curling itself up around his leg. With a decisive huff through his nose, the oldest Winchester squared his shoulders and walked purposefully through the shelves. The bookstore was mostly empty, it being only three in the afternoon on a Monday, but there were two or three stay-at-home moms and an elderly lady or two that made him want to stay out of sight. And the bookstore was big enough that he could avoid being seeing if he wished; it was about the size of six of his apartments stuck together and ran along a strip mall beside three clothing stores, a tiny army surplus shop, and a restaurant that served three-star meals in a two-star setting and tried it's damndest to be five-star material.

As he approached the checkout counter, Dean's confident, somewhat cocky stride faltered. He didn't see Castiel. Maybe he didn't work on Mondays. Maybe this was a bad idea. Then the angel ducked through a door behind the counter with a box in his arms, speaking over his shoulder to someone Dean couldn't see, and the demon darted behind a bookcase. And then felt incredibly stupid and childish for doing so. He licked his lips, swallowed, straightened up, told himself he wasn't acting like a fourteen year old girl with a crush, and walked a little stiffly up to the counter.

He cleared his throat and the angel turned around from where he was putting bookmarks into a display rack. The friendly smile that didn't reach his eyes slipped for a split second and Dean thought he saw something akin to absolute horror. But then the blatantly fake smile was back and he was dusting his hands off and straightening his tie, which really only made it all the more crooked, the knot slipping a little to rest at the base of his neck like someone leaving work.

Dean wrenched his eyes away from the man's neck and met his gaze and that was a mistake. Up close those eyes were piercing and shockingly blue, no one's eyes should be that blue, that color blue could not possibly exist on the planet. There was the hint of stubble scraping the angel's jaw line, clinging stubbornly there even after a run with the morning razor, and his hair was messy in a way that suggested he had tried to comb it and then just given up because what was the point in fighting the inevitable.

Dean was reading way too much into this.

"Can I help you?"

Damn it.

The instant Castiel (and, yeah, his name actually was Castiel, Dean could see it on his plastic nametag) spoke, it all went to shit. His voice was gravel and thunder in the distance, all crisp edges and deep undertones. Dean's tail shot up around his leg so fast, the demon jerked at the motion.

Well, fuck.

"Yeah, I was hoping you could tell me if you have any books about, uh, games for kids. In gym. Like—like in school." Dean shifted, trying not to make a fool of himself and feeling like he was failing maybe just a bit, "I—I'm a gym teacher," He added hurriedly and glanced at the nametag as a courtesy even though he already knew what he'd find there, "Er, Castiel." And he grinned in what he hoped was a complacent manner.

Castiel blinked once, twice, and then tapped something into the computer, fixing his gaze on the screen. Dean stood there feeling like an idiot with his hands in his pockets so no one could see them curled into fists. Not that anyone who knew better would miss the way his tail was clinging stubbornly to his leg like a scorned lover.

Okay, bad analogy.

"We have some books on outdoor activities, but none specific for gym classes," Castiel returned his attention to Dean though he seemed to be looking at spot just above Dean's left ear, "Would those help?"

"I think so. I'll have to check them out. Where are they at?"

Castiel gave him the location of the books, the feathers of his wings rustling as they shifted restlessly behind him. Dean kept trying to keep his gaze politely on Cas' face but those wings were very, very distracting. He found himself wondering if the feathers were soft or stiff and if it was true that some angels were born with oil glands to help groom their wings. Dean knew one or two demons who had natural oil glands but most, like Sam, had to purchase specialty mixtures to keep their wings in peak condition.

He snapped himself quickly out of those thoughts, though, because Castiel was looking at him with his head tilted slightly to the side and goddamn if that wasn't adorable. Dean really, really, really needed to get away from this angel.

The demon took a step back, grinning and nodding his head, and backed away from the counter,

"Thanks, Cas."

A thick, somewhat cold silence. Dean felt a pink heat creeping over his collarbones and up his neck and quickly spun around, nearly tripping over his own tail in an effort to get away from the angel who just kept _staring_ at him.

This was totally not fair, the guy had to be doing it on purpose. Angel powers or…or pheromones or something. The last time Dean had made such a fool out of himself in front of someone was nearly six years ago, when he'd been dating that hot human chick named Cassie out on the East Coast.

Oh _fuck him silly_.

He had a crush on Castiel.

* * *

Castiel had never thought a day could be so long. But this one, this particular Monday, had just dragged itself along its merry little way, going as slow as it pleased, and the angel had nearly ran out of the store after closing.

It was that demon.

The demon with the short, twisty dark gray horns and emerald eyes that caught everything, the demon with just enough freckles on his face to be noticeable, the demon whose tail kept wrapping around his leg like it had a mind of its own.

The demon that Castiel was sure he was getting a crush on.

Was that even legal?

The dark-haired man groaned and cracked his neck as he pulled his dinner from the microwave and sat down at the counter to eat. His apartment was tiny, a room within a house that had been remolded to hold at least four tenants with a tiny bathroom, a kitchen that bled into the sitting room, and a bedroom big enough to hold a bed, a chair, a dresser and little else aside from the tiny closet. It wasn't that Castiel didn't have the money to afford someplace bigger, it was just that he didn't want to; the neighborhood and the neighbors were nice enough and there was a small grocery outlet a few blocks down he could simply walk to if he needed to. Living in luxury and flare and drama did not appeal to him.

Not to mention that he wasn't used to living the high-rise way and the notion of it was…off putting to say the least.

His cellphone dinged cheerily at him from inside his trench coat pocket where it was hanging on a hook by the door. Cas stared at the LED light peeping over the top of the pocket until the phone stopped ringing and went back to his meal. When it rang again, he did not even look up.

This went on until Castiel finished his dinner, set the dishes in the sink, rinsed his hands off, and walked leisurely over to his coat. He extracted the silent phone, waited until it started ringing again for the seventh time, let it go for a moment or two and then finally answered with a flat, "Hello".

A voice garbled out the end of the phone, the speaker obviously shouting, and Cas pulled the phone away from his ear until the yelling stopped.

"Are you done?" A pause, "I was eating, you know I don't answer the phone when I'm—no, I highly doubt that I would be the first person you called if you had an emergency." Cas picked his way across his living room towards his bedroom, "Because you have many other contacts that are much more influential than me. Like Ba—well, yes, I suppose that does play a factor in it. Yes. Ye—no, not for two weeks. Is that why you're calling?"

Castiel kicked his bedroom door shut with his foot and unwound his tie with one hand, the other preoccupied with holding the phone. He flopped onto his bed as the person on the other end of the line continued to babble and stretched his wings over his head, arching his back until it popped. Then he relaxed and started fighting with the laces of his dress shoes with one hand.

"Really?" He asked into the cellphone, "You called me because of that? What tone of voice? No. No, I don't. No, really, I don't want to hear about your newest girlfriends." Castiel rolled his eyes, "Don't tell me that when you have a new one on your arm every other week." He managed to free the laces and occupied himself with prying the right shoe off his foot with the toe of his left, "No, I'm not saying it bothers me. No. No, that's not what I'm saying at all, stop putting words in my mouth." The shoe thudded onto the floor and he pulled the other off with his free hand before starting to unbutton his shirt.

There was another string of garbled words from the phone but Cas' ever-so-slightly bemused expression didn't change. He undid his work shirt and shed it over the back the chair, leaving him standing in his white t-shirt and slacks. There was the clink of the belt and then Castiel was struggling out of his pants, kicking his feet over the side of his bed to get them off, his bemused expression changing into a smirk.

"Well then maybe you shouldn't flirt with every single girl who comes through the shop, hm? Teasing you? No, why would I do that? I have better things to do." Castiel's expression abruptly changed, his eyes widening and his mouth opening slightly at something the person on the other end of the phone said, "Who told you that? And I do not! No. No!" The angel scowled, "I'm not having this discussion with you. If you're not going to be an adult—no, absolutely not. No. Goodnight."

And with that, he snapped his phone shut and tossed into onto the seat of the chair. There was still a frown on his features but it was more of a disgruntled one than actual anger.

He shouldn't have answered the phone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry this took so long to get up, guys, it wasn't my intention to leave you hanging. But I have no internet at home so it's basically whenever I can get to the library. _

_I have to say I'm honestly a little taken aback by the amount of response this got, flattered, really, if I'm honest. You guys really like this that much? Ahah, I'm honored. I'll try and keep it epic for you, all right!_

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Dean kept going back to the bookstore.

It was bad, it was so very, very, bad, but when Dean got a crush, he got it like a virus. It wasn't like he was dreaming of Castiel in his sleep, wasn't thinking of him in the shower in the morning, wasn't daydreaming about him during work. But after a long day working with screaming children he had begun to find the silence of the bookstore and Castiel's generally impassive presence to be a relief, a welcome break from his usual hubbub.

And Castiel didn't seem to mind the attention. But then, Dean could have been projecting.

Though it wasn't like he was _outright flirting_ with Cas. He would stop in after work, browse through the shelves, find something that interested him, and take it up to the counter. The two would share some idle chatter—How was your day? Not to bad. Yours? Fine, a bit busy, there's a new book release tomorrow.—then Dean would pack up and leave. They were merely acquaintances who knew nothing about the other except for their respective race and jobs.

Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it that way.

* * *

Sam and Jess dropped by two weeks later on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

Sam asked, "Dean, what the hell is this?"

Dean glanced at the small pile of books in a haphazard stack on the coffee table and said, "They're books, Sammy. I know you kids these days use your iPads and your laptops but in the good old days," And here he sent Sam his trademark, shit-eating smirk, "We read from little sheets of paper pressed between cardboard and made with ink and hard labor."

A bitchface started across Sam's features (Dean was guessing Number 9: 'you're so funny I'm going to punch you in the face') but Jess swept up and plucked the first book off the top of the stack. She was pretty and sweet and too short for Sam but Dean liked her, approved of her. And Jess, considerate and just-as-stubborn-as-a-Winchester-Jess, wasn't at all bothered by the fact that she, as a human, would be marrying into a family of demons. Her skin was lightly tanned and her thin fingers flicked through the page of the hardcover book. Dean watched her out of the corner of his eye, pretending to be entirely interested in home improvement show on the television.

Jess leaned past Sam, who was sitting between herself and Dean on the old couch, and waved the book in the air. Her free hand came up to tuck a strand of golden-blond hair behind her ear, "Since when did you read Stephen King?"

Dean didn't look away from the television though the spade on his tail flared a little, "I thought I'd give him a try. _Cell_ was okay but I hated the ending and I have no idea what was going in _The Dome_; quit about halfway through."

"You should read _The Dark Tower_ series." Jess suggested, setting the book back down and leaning her elbows on her knees so she could talk around her fiancé, "It's long and it gets a little complicated in some spots but it's my favorite of his. Just don't read the Coda in the last book."

"Oh yeah? Have you read—."

"Are we seriously having this conversation?" Sam interrupted, eyes wide as he stared at Dean, "Seriously, Dean. Books. You. In your apartment. _Voluntarily_."

Dean looked over at his brother and shrugged wordlessly, his tail flicking up and down in a nonchalant manner. Sam stared at him for a very long moment and then his wings shuffled against the back of the couch and his own tail flipped around to twist into Dean's. Dean let him; it was only the two spaded ends intertwining. Jess politely pretended not to notice this sudden bout of brotherly affection.

Then, quick as a flash, Sam reached down and grabbed Dean's tail giving it a sharp yank that sent a painful twinge up Dean's spine.

"Sam! What the hell!"

"It's that angel, isn't it?" Sam's brown eyes were alight and Dean didn't like the eager expression on his younger brother's face at all, "The one from the bookstore a couple of weeks ago? You keep going back to see him I _knew it_!"

"What's this about an angel in a bookstore?" Jess asked.

"Dean's got a cruuuuussshhh!" Sam said in a sing-song voice and Dean growled in the back of his throat. Sam just chuckled and let go of his brother's tail.

"It's not a crush." Dean spat, "It's a…a…I don't know what it is. We barely know each other. We just see one another every so often."

He knew without looking that Sam and Jess were sharing a look, one of those looks that people who were close to one another could share and say a speech without saying a word out loud at all. Dean ignored them and pointedly turned up the volume on the television set. He did not want to talk about this.

Especially with his younger brother and his younger brother's fiancé.

* * *

Dean did not go back to the bookstore during the next week. Instead, after work, he headed straight home, curled up with a beer, and focused far too hard on the television.

He pushed the stack of books off the coffee table and hid them under the desk behind the couch.

* * *

Castiel pretended not to notice when the demon didn't show up for a week.

He stocked the shelves, cleaned the store, organized the back room, and worked the cash register with his usual distance to the people around him. He pulled his wings close behind his back and shook them out again only to pull them in once more.

He said nothing to his companion on the other end of the phone line when they called every night.

* * *

Dean was driving back from the school on Tuesday afternoon when his cellphone went off in the cup holder beside him. Without taking his eyes off the road, he plucked it up and flipped it open, one hand still clenched on the steering wheel while his tail rose up to wind around the bottom of it, keeping it steady as he drove. So it wasn't exactly both hands on the wheel but, hey, tails were dexterous and meant to be used. Dean didn't see a problem with it.

"Yeah, this is Dean."

"_Hey Dean, it's Sam."_

"Hey Sammy, what's up?"

"_Can you stop by the bookstore on your way home and pick me up? I took the bus and there isn't anything that goes by Jess' place."_

Dean rolled his eyes at a traffic light, "Sam, seriously? Can't you just call Jess to pick you up?"

"_She's out with some friends."_

"Then go back to campus!"

"_I left the keys to my dorm at Jess' place."_

"Then fly, moron, you've got wings."

There was a split second of silence from the other side of the phone and then Sam said in a voice that was tinged with the barest hint of something dark, _"It's too cold out. And I don't feel like flying."_

A groan and Dean beat the back of his head against the headrest of the seat. The light changed and he slipped into traffic, heading towards the strip mall instead of his apartment, "Fine, fine, I'm coming. You'd lose your head if it wasn't attached to your neck. No, wait, you could just look for that mop on your head you call hair."

"_Love you too, Dean."_

"Yeah, whatever, just make sure your butt is ready to go when I get there."

"_Sure thing."_ And he hung up.

Dean dropped his phone into his jacket pocket as he turned onto the street that held the strip mall and the bookstore. Dave Matthews Band was singing "Out of My Hands" from the radio and Dean didn't exactly like the feeling he was getting from it. A frown was starting to crawl across his features as he pulled into the parking lot and threw his Impala into park. He sat there stewing for a moment, jaw working, not sure if he was frustrated with Sam or with himself. In the end, he decided to disregard all feelings concerning his current situation, shoved himself out of the car, and pretend not to notice the way his tail was curling up to his lower back in a tight spiral of agitation.

The bookstore was quiet when he entered, it always was, and Dean hovered by the entrance, looking around for Sam's obvious height and dark wings. He didn't see him. With a huff, Dean wove his way around the bookstore, peering around every shelf, figuring Sam had picked up a book, sat on the floor, and was reading it. Again, he came up Sam-less. Now getting just a tad frustrated, the oldest Winchester brother retrieved his phone from his pocket and dialed Sam. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. And then went to voicemail. Dean cursed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, tail snapping across the floor.

One last thing to try and Dean could only hope that a certain somebody was still organizing the backroom.

He had no such luck.

Castiel was working at the checkout counter, occupying himself with a quiet, polite chat with the other clerk. Dean decided he'd go right for the human clerk but before he could take a step, a women swept up out of nowhere and demanded assistance on finding a book. The human clerk gave Castiel a nod and led the woman away, talking passively to her as they went.

Dean thought maybe his stomach had decided to switch places with the blood vessels in his feet.

The closer he got to the counter, the more hyperaware he became of himself and of Cas. He was regretting not changing out of his sweaty gym wear, only throwing his leather jacket over top of his graying T-shirt with every intention of heading home and sitting around in his boxers. His tail was curled in its usual 'S' shape but was decidedly stiff and motionless.

Castiel looked up when he heard the footsteps approach and Dean couldn't make out what sort of expression crossed the angel's face. It looked like a dozen expressions at once. How someone could manage that was way beyond Dean's understanding but he stopped at the counter, kept his face completely neutral and his hands in his pockets, and asked in what he hoped was a neutral tone,

"Have you seen a super tall demon around here? Got redish wings and black rams horns? Girly hair?"

"The demon who was here with you a few Sundays ago?" It looked as though Castiel was playing neutral ground as well, not letting a single inflection into his voice when he spoke.

"Yeah, that's him, my younger brother. He said he was here."

"I haven't seen him here at all."

Dean's brow furrowed and then, just as quickly, cleared and he ground his teeth together. His tail curled up against his back, the spade wide enough to start digging holes in the ground,

"That little…I'm gonna kill him."

"Is everything all right?" There was genuine concern in Castiel's voice and it snapped Dean's attention right back to the angel.

"Yeah, just peachy. I've just got a younger brother who had better avoid me for the next year or so." Dean scowled, turning away, "Sorry to waste your time."

"You didn't."

Dean turned around so fast he pulled a muscle in his neck. Cas' mouth was shut tightly and the pink tinge in his cheeks said he had never meant to say that out loud. Dean blinked, unsure what to do. What was the protocol for this situation? What was the social norm? Was this the part where they were supposed to fall into each others arm and confess their undying—

"Don't you have a brother to see to?" Castiel sliced into Dean's thoughts and the demon couldn't have been more grateful.

"Yeah," The Winchester huffed with an awkward grin, "Thanks. See you around." He waved a hand in the air and was out the door as quickly as possible.

He didn't want to hear if Castiel answered him, he didn't want to know if the angel ever wanted to see him again, he didn't want to face the idea that he might just have an interest in someone that went deeper than sex and a one-night stand. Because after Cassie had dumped him, he didn't think he was worth it. Obviously he'd been doing something wrong in that relationship and somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd figured that long terms were not for him.

Besides that, what sort of mate would want scarred and damaged goods like him?


	4. Chapter 4

_You guys are too much, you really are. I read all your comments and they just make me smile. Ahhh, I'm feeling so pressured to make this awesome. Excuse me while I keyboard slam and hide my face in embarrassment. _

_And here, again, I am going to apologize for these updates being so few and far between. We have dial-up at home but it's so slow it can hardly be called internet and I live fifteen minutes out of town with no real available transport. I'm also very busy with my younger brother's graduation party and I'm going to Chicago next week to see Stephen Merchant (pauses for wild screaming session)._

_So thank you guys for being sssoooo patient with me when it comes to updates and, aahhh, I cannot express how much I love you all and all the comments you leave! I was worried about doing a full length fic! I will just send you all internet hugs, okay._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Dean avoided the bookstore like the plague.

Once or twice he would pull into the parking lot, sit in his Impala for a while, and then drive off again, unable to work up the guts to say anything or think of why he was there at all. If he'd been paying any sort of attention whatsoever, he might have noticed—in the brief moments he did spend sitting in the parking lot—that Jess' car was there too. A lot.

It was never brought up until almost two weeks after Sam's set up (the result of which had been a wrestling match, a split lip, and a couple of bruised elbows). Dean dropped by Jess' apartment to spend time with his younger brother and his younger brother's fiancé. Jess was cooking and Dean never passed up a home-cooked meal cooked by a woman. There was something, he claimed, that was magic in a woman's touch and whatever it was it made food delicious. Sam thought he was stupid and Jess just smiled and thanked Dean for the compliment.

"So Dean," Jess said conversationally as she dolled out fresh, piping hot lasagna onto everyone's plates, "I've been to the bookstore a lot recently. New reading material you know?"

Dean stared at her for a long, quiet moment and then his tail twisted around the leg of his chair and he dug into his meal, "Oh yeah? Nice place, huh?"

"Yeah, it's got a great selection, very big." Jess said and Dean saw her grinning at Sam out of the corner of his eye, "I've been talking to the people that work there too, thinking about getting a job there and quitting the waitressing gig."

"Mmmm." Said Dean and stuffed his mouth full of pasta.

"Castiel seems really nice." She added and Sam hid his stupid, childish grin behind his glass of water.

"Mm." Dean grunted past the dinner in his mouth.

"I mean, for a nerdy looking guy," Jess continued, "He wears a trench coat, did you know that? Who wears a trench coat these days?"

Sam fought to keep from laughing at his brother's obvious discomfort, his words trembling as he spoke, "People from up North wear trench coats."

"I don't think he's from up North," Jess actually sounded thoughtful, "He's got kind of a strange accent, though. But it's barely there, you would hardly notice it. Maybe he's from the South?"

Dean rammed his fork into his lasagna with just a touch of venom.

"And he's as pale as that?" Sam scoffed, keeping an obvious eye on Dean, his tail waving playfully back and forth, "Nah, no way, he's got to be from the North."

"Oh, and apparently," Jess tapped her fork in the air, "He's got an older brother and—."

"Why are we talking about this?" Dean interrupted, slamming his fork into his plate harder than he intended. In his agitation and mild embarrassment, a trail of smoke eased out from between his teeth. Across the table, Sam's tail slowly arced up behind his back in a defensive manner, his wings spreading slightly, and an answering puff of smoke coming from his own mouth.

Demon's couldn't breath fire—at least, none had in centuries—but the biological capabilities still somewhat remained, however small. Get a demon angry enough and he or she was likely to spit smoke, but little else. Sam's reaction to Dean was purely instinctual, the need and desire to protect his mate. Though he knew perfectly well that Dean would never intentionally harm Jess.

Jess reached over and put her hand on Sam's arm and the younger Winchester instantly relaxed. His tail coiled around Jess' upper arm, spade thinning and slipping beneath her shirtsleeve. Dean ducked his head to stare at his food, politely looking away from the intimacy of the moment not only because it was the nice thing to do but also because it was part of demon edict to do so. Mating in demon culture was a special and intricate thing and bonded pairs were considered sacred, the intimacy between them a private and precious thing.

"All right, Dean, you can look again. I promise we've stopped being lovey-dovey." Sam's voice said and Dean raised his head, tail flexing uncertainly. His younger brother was smiling but it was in a friendly manner that said he appreciated Dean's respect of culture, despite Dean's tendency to disrespect everything else.

"Hey Dean," Jess said, prodding at her lasagna, "Will you do me a favor?"

"What?" Dean asked through a mouthful of his own food.

"Go back to the bookstore and talk to Castiel."

Dean balked, freezing with his fork halfway to his plate. But it was only for a second and he dipped his fork back into his food quickly enough, loading it with enough pasta to effectively fill his mouth. His tail tightened around the leg of his chair again and he didn't answer.

* * *

Dean went back to the bookstore after work that Tuesday.

He meandered around the wall-to-wall magazine rack, plucked at a copy of a swimsuit catologue until a woman who was clearly half Unnatural shot him a disgusted glare, and finally hung out in the corner with a good view of the checkout counter. He allowed his tail to wrap loosely around his leg and then just watched for a while.

Castiel, when he wasn't helping customers, was either checking the register, reading a book, or talking to his fellow clerk. His blue-black wings looked more like a matte black in the fluorescents overhead but when he angled them just so and they caught the light in a certain way, they gleamed a hundred shades of midnight blue against the deep black embedded in the shafts. He showed little emotion on his face other than a slight twitch of the brow or a tilt of the head, but his blue eyes betrayed almost everything, glittering and flashing. He was rather stiff and didn't fidget or shuffle or fiddle with things, his wings the most active part of him; they twitched and brushed against things and occasionally wrapped around the corner of the counter or a stack of books.

When Dean's spade stabbed painfully into his ankle, he jumped and glanced at his wristwatch. He'd been standing there watching Cas for a good hour and forty-five minutes. The demon swallowed and pressed his back into the corner until his broad shoulders wedged against the walls, skin bunching painfully between his shoulder blades. Then he sucked in a deep breath, levered himself away from the wall, and trotted alongside the magazine rack. His green eyes scanned the titles, looking for an excuse to go to the checkout counter. After a minute or two of searching, he tugged a magazine from the rack, tucked it under his arm, and headed for the checkout, his tail swinging around behind him in an overly exaggerated nonchalant manner.

The human clerk, all scruffy beard and twitchy fingers, saw him coming and quickly busied himself by fiddling with the cash register. Castiel, however, looked up, saw Dean, and his wings half-flared. And even though his expression remained neutral his blue eyes flashed and darted quickly over Dean's form. Dean's tail tried to twist around his leg and he forced himself to keep it behind his back, where it belonged. For now.

"Hey Cas," He said as casually as he could, leaning on the counter and tossing the magazine across the plastic covered top, "How've you been?"

"Hello, Mr. Winchester." Castiel responded in his usual doctor-patient-confidentiality tone, "I've been all right. What about yourself?"

"It's Dean."

"Pardon?"

Dean thrust out a hand, a smile quirking his lips, "My name. It's Dean. You don't have to call me 'Mr. Winchester', makes me sound like my old man."

Castiel blinked once and then the barest hint of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. He reached out and took Dean's hand, his skin warm and dry as he answered, "Castiel Novak. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Dean couldn't help himself, he beamed as he pulled his hand away from Cas' (and he totally didn't let his fingers trail across the angel's palm). Castiel picked up the magazine and flipped it over to scan it into the computer and Dean unashamedly watched his hands dance over the keyboard.

"So I hear you met Jess." The oldest Winchester said, making small talk that was just a little bit off their usual track.

"Jess?" Castiel paused, looking up, and then nodded, "Oh yes, the pretty young woman with the blonde hair." He turned back to the computer, "She's very talkative; told me all about her big wedding plans." His brow furrowed slightly, "Then she inquired about my thoughts on weddings and I…I told her that I would not like a big affair."

"I'm on board with that." Dean muttered, "Sam—my younger brother—and Jess are throwing this massive party-wedding-dance-thing to invite all their college friends and it annoys the shit outta me. I mean, they're both adults so they can do whatever they want but I can't stand huge crowds like that."

"Neither can I," Cas admitted, jabbing at the receipt button which appeared to be refusing to do its job and was tenaciously sticking in place, "I much prefer—damn it. Chuck, the button is stuck again."

The human clerk—Chuck, apparently—scurried over and hovered at Cas' shoulder. He shot a terrified glance at Dean and edged around so he was hidden more behind the angel's dark wings. Dean's brow furrowed as he watched the behavior. It was behavior he was well acquainted with; every so often there would be a human or two who disliked demons or just Unnaturals in general. Chuck appeared to be one of the people who was wary of demons.

Dean's lip curled and he growled, "What? You scared of me? I'm not going to eat your soul, dude."

Castiel looked around at Chuck and then stepped to the side, pulling his wings in so that Chuck couldn't hide behind them anymore. The human swallowed loudly and reached out to fiddle with the button while staying as far away from the counter and Dean as he possibly could. Dean let his tail ease up into the air and sway behind his back like a cobra preparing to strike. Chuck froze, staring with wide eyes that tracked the movement of Dean's tail.

"Dean." Castiel said flatly and the demon flicked his narrowed eyes to the angel, "Please stop intimidating my coworkers."

Castiel saying his name was enough. Dean's tail dropped to the floor with a pathetic thump and the spade dragged itself across the carpet in a submissive manner before easing back into its default S-curve position. He huffed out an irritated breath and then muttered,

"Fine, whatever. See you later, Cas."

And without waiting for a response he stomped off towards the door, fighting to keep his tail or his posture from revealing his agitation. The segregation and dislike some humans held towards his people (and some Unnaturals to demons), rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't even like thinking about the state of things over in Achreon, all it managed to do was piss him off. Not to mention that Dean had had several bad run ins with people who discriminated against Unnaturals and it always, _always_ got under his skin.

"Dean! Dean, wait up!"

The demon paused and looked over his shoulder to see Castiel hurrying out of the bookstore with a plastic bag clutched in his hand. The angel slowed as he reached Dean, his shiny black shoes pattering across the thin blanket of white stuff trying to call itself snow (snow in September, god) and his crooked tie swinging around his neck.

"You forgot your magazine."

"Thanks." Dean muttered, taking the bag from Cas' hand.

"I apologize for Chuck's behavior. He's nervous in general but he's usually not—."

"It's fine," Dean said and tried to swallow his dismissive tone that rose in his voice, "Nothing I haven't seen before. Thanks for the chat, Cas, I'll see you around."

"I hope so." Castiel said with a smile that actually reached his eyes. Then he turned away and headed back into the bookstore. Dean watched him go, the end of his tail wrapping around his ankle, and grinned to himself. He scrambled into his Impala, cranked the classic rock station, and drove home singing along with every song he knew and every song he didn't.

When he got to the apartment, humming Metallica under his breath, he dropped the plastic bag on the couch, kicked off his shoes, and headed straight for the fridge. He grabbed a beer and some leftover chicken from the night before, kicked the door shut, and sauntered over to the couch, practically beaming he was in such a good mood. The oldest Winchester flopped onto the couch, took a drink, a bite of chicken, set everything on the coffee table, and reached for the magazine in the bag. As he pulled it out, the receipt drifted out and onto the floor. Dean reached down to scoop it up and stuff it back into the bag when a scribble of blue ink caught his eye.

The handwriting was sharp and clear and simply said "CALL ME".

Underneath it was a phone number.

Dean stared at it for a long moment and then grinned.

He was probably going to take a long, hot shower later tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

_Managed to squeeze onto the dial-up and grant you lovely peoples another chapter. I highly enjoy crawling onto this shoddy old computer and seeing all your squeals. It motivates me to write more._

_And in case the PM system was acting up again, in answer to one reader's question: No, Dean does not have wings. He is, in fact, wingless. Sammy has wings, Cas has wings, Dean-o does not._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Dean programmed Castiel's number into his phone (and gave the angel his own) but never called him. Not because he didn't want to call Cas but because it wasn't proper for him to do so. Demon culture was a complicated thing and sometimes Dean didn't like the rules but they were the only rules he lived by so he didn't dare break them. Besides that, demons breaking culture rules were marked and ostracized from the demonic community as a whole. And because companionship and family ties were so important, a demon without a family or a friend to his name quickly wasted away into nothing. Dean had seen the results of these rule breakers and intended never to be one.

One-night stand stands and such were different. No one gave their number out to one-night stands. You only gave your number to potential mates.

So he did not call Castiel on the phone but he did go to see the angel every day after work, despite the growing cold and layer of leaves coating the ground. They talked for as long as they could at the checkout counter. They discussed music and books (Cas had a lot of suggestions for Dean to read and Dean had a lot of wrinkled noses at the things Cas listened to), traded stories about work, admitted favorites (food, color, time of day, drink, etc.), and basically danced around the entire idea that they were attracted to one another at all.

It was glaringly obvious to any observer and Dean and Castiel were well aware of the fact that the other liked them in more than a friendly way. But neither of them appeared to be willing to take that next step forward. Something was holding both of them back.

"No, you don't understand, it's more complicated than that." Castiel said into his phone one evening as he lay stretched out on his back on his bed. His wings trailed loosely over the sides, feathers brushing the wooden floor, "I can't just _ask him_. What? Why? You're asking _why_? I don't know, maybe because of where we came from. What sort of person wants a piece of—no. No, I don't think that at all. And I think you're being stupid."

There was a garbled outcry from the other end of the line and Cas held the phone away from his ear with a light scowl until the other had stopped shouting.

"Stop yelling at me. You call me names all the time, why don't I get to call you names? That's not an excuse. Look, will you please stay out of this? I…I want to do this myself, my way. I know you mean well but—no, I'm not going to tell you his name. No. I said no. And don't you dare go asking around." An indignant sounding response blurted from the phone, "Because I know what you'll do and I don't want you chasing him off. Yes, you would. You did it before and I know you, you'd do it again." Castiel scoffed and rolled his eyes, "I can take any tone of voice with you that I want. Oh really? Because you have a funny way of showing it and I—what?"

Cas' bemused expression dropped away into something that didn't know if it wanted to be surprise or confusion, "You're…what do you mean?" Soft, barely there crackling from the phone, earnest against Castiel's ear as he rolled onto his side and wrapped his wings around himself. His eyebrows tightened together but not in anger, "I don't…I think so. But I don't really know him and I don't know how to ask and demons are—no. I don't want to do it like that." The angel bit his lip and his blue eyes darted to his closet door as though it would provide answers to questions his phone companion was asking, "I guess I do. Yes. But I don't—." The voice cut him off and he sighed, "All right. All right, yes, I'll try. Yes, yes, I'll tell you if anything happens. No, I'm not going to call you the second it does. No, I'm not going to give you all the 'juicy little details'. No. No, you can stop that now. Fine, I'm going to sleep. Goodnight. No, no, I'm done talking. Goodnight."

The yelling from the phone was cut off as Castiel snapped it shut, tossed it onto the chair, and yanked the blankets of his bed up to his shoulders. The uncomfortable knot that had been building in his stomach tightened even further.

Asking _that question_ seemed like stepping off a cliff edge without the reassurance that his wings would open to catch him before he fell.

He just couldn't bring himself to do.

* * *

"Hey Dean."

Dean jerked out of the storage closet, slammed his head into the metal stand of a hockey goal leaning against the wall, and ducked out of the room, hands clasped over his skull and hissing between clenched teeth. Eyes watering, he turned around to see the redhead librarian, Anna, standing behind him with her arms crossed and a slight smile on her face. Anna was mostly human but her grandfather had been an afrit and it showed in her yellow eyes, which were now staring at Dean with a twinkle of amusement that the demon didn't know if he liked.

He pulled his hand away from the back of his head, checked for blood, probed the injured spot again, and then looked at Anna, "This head injury better be important. What do you need, Anna?"

"Some help with heavy lifting."

"Get the janitor to do it."

"He's cleaning up a kid's mess in the kindergarten hallway."

Dean made a face and shut the storage closet door, twisting the key into the lock before making sure it was secure. He tail twisted in frustration—he really wanted to get to the bookstore—but he owed Anna a favor or two and it was the decent thing to do.

"Fine," He muttered, scratching at the base of his horns, "I'll help. Just let me drop the key off at the office and I'll be right down there."

"Becky's helping."

Dean let out a loud and dramatic groan as he dragged himself out of the gym to drop the storage key off. Becky was the school nurse and was one of the most obnoxious people Dean had ever had the displeasure of meeting. She was over-excitable, bouncy, and had had the weirdest crush on Sam for the longest time. Neither Winchester cared for her very much and she was one of the reasons Sam never dropped by the school anymore. Dean couldn't blame him, really. If he could, he avoided going anywhere near the nurse's office, sometimes taking the long way around the school to avoid the hallway where she worked entirely.

He could hear Becky's insistent babbling from down the hallway and he frowned at it, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket and hunching his shoulders as if he could ward off the irritation. Hopefully he could get in, get out, and get to the bookstore before Becky cornered him started telling him her life story. For the sixth time.

"All right, what do you need me to do?" The demon asked, ducking under the plastic red and yellow leaves hanging in the doorway. It was fall outside and in. Anna had a pension for decorating the library according to the seasons.

"Deeeeeaaannn~!" Squealed a high pitched voice and suddenly Becky was right in front of him, looking a little flushed and way too excited. Dean cringed as she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the library.

Anna gave him a sympathetic look, "I just need someone to help unload the boxes from the truck. Becky and I can put books on the shelves. As soon as the last box is unloaded you can leave, you look like you've got places to be."

Dean grunted, tugging his arm from Becky's grasp, and trotted towards the back door which was propped open with a footstool. A delivery truck had backed up to the door and its doors were flung wide open. It was filled with boxes but there were only about ten or so that were labeled with the name of the school. Dean flicked his tail, grabbed the nearest one, hefted it up, and started lugging it over to where the two women were waiting. Anna smiled at him and Becky just beamed. Dean acknowledged both of these with a snort and another wave of his tail before turning to head back to the truck.

"Uh, Dean?" He paused and looked back around to see Anna pointing at the box at her feet, "I don't have a knife to cut the tape open with."

This time, Dean didn't even bother to hide the dark frown on his face and Becky giggled. He glared at her and she shrugged, the smile dropping for a half a second. But he stomped back over to the box all the same and dug the very tip of his spade into the tape, slicing along the opening until the tape had split apart and the flaps popped open. Then he turned his back on both of them and went for another box.

By the time Dean had gotten seven boxes out of the back of the truck, the woman had only managed to empty two and a half of them. Dean figured they were spending too much time giggling and gossiping to one another and were only stacking the books when he was actually looking at them.

His suspicions were confirmed (sort of) when he came back with the eighth box and Becky dropped a goddamn, grade-A nuclear warhead on him.

"So Dean, my boyfriend says you've been hitting that angel in the bookstore on Eingles Road. What's that like?"

Dean nearly dropped the box of heavy books on his foot. He just stood there with it in his arms, jaw working up and down as his brain tried to catch up with what had just been said. Then he blurted out, "Who's your boyfriend?" And nearly threw the box at the girls.

"Chuck." Becky replied, lifting up an armful of books from the open box at her feet and handing them to Anna so the redhead could shove them into place on the shelf. Dean pretended not to notice the way Anna was smirking at him.

"I'm not hitting anyone." He growled and jabbed his tail into the tape on the box for emphasis, ripping it apart with far more force than necessary, "And tell your boyfriend that other people's personal lives isn't good pillow talk."

Becky turned pink in the face and Dean felt quite smug about his victory. No one said anything else as Dean unloaded the last two boxes and the demon left without a word to either of them.

He had a bookstore to get to.

So maybe he drove a little over the speed limit and maybe he parked a little crookedly and maybe he walked a bit faster than normal across the parking lot. No one had ever made him do that, unless it was Sammy. Dean really needed to keep his head in the game and get his act together.

Today, he told himself, he'd ask Castiel today and then all this stupid fretting would be over with. Only he wasn't fretting because he wasn't a girl.

Dean didn't even bother with the pretext of finding a book, he just strode right up to the counter, his tail flicking in the air as he green eyes searched for Cas. At first there was no sign of the angel and then a pair of dark wings stretched over the countertop followed by Castiel's back, his head, and then the rest of him plus an armful of books. His wings fanned out behind him as he held onto the teetering stack of hardcovers and he didn't notice Dean's approach until after he'd pushed the books onto the counter by the register.

A look that might have been relief darted across his features for a second before that faint smile appeared, "I didn't think you were coming."

"Yeah, sorry I'm late," Dean said, leaning against the countertop with his arms folded and his legs crossed at the ankles behind him, "I got held up because _someone's girlfriend_ couldn't shut her hole." And his tail arched menacingly in Chuck's direction. Chuck's eyes widened and he ducked behind his register with a squeak.

Castiel turned his head very slowly and sent a very cold and very scary glare in Chuck's direction. The human paled dramatically and scrambled out from behind the counter, babbling something about organizing book shelves before he disappeared from view. Cas turned back to Dean who raised his eyebrows,

"Remind me never to piss you off."

"That was not pissed off." Castiel said smoothly, ruffling his wings so that the feathers lay straight, "That was displeased."

Dean actually laughed.

The two of them talked for a long time until the store got busier and Dean's stomach growled, reminding him that he really needed to get home and eat. The angel and the demon said their goodbyes and Dean ducked out into the parking lot feeling stupid and hot faced.

He still hadn't asked.


	6. Chapter 6

_Apparently the jukebox at the Roadhouse has every bit of music EVER. You'll see what I mean in a minute…_

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Dean was planning for the very best Saturday of all time.

He was going to sit around the house in his boxers, marathon his way through the Indian Jones and Star Wars movies, and eat frozen pizza and popcorn all day.

It was one of those kinds of Saturdays.

But when he was a quarter of the way into _Temple of Doom_, his phone strummed a guitar solo beneath the audio and Dean let out a groan. He paused the movie and lazily allowed his tail scoop up his cell phone and bring it to him.

"This had better be good, Sam. I am marathoning Indiana Jones."

"_Rrriiiggghhht."_ There was a slightly sarcastic edge to Sam's voice the Dean frowned at, _"So, Jess is busy and it's been a while since the two of us have hung out so I was wondering if you wanted to go down to The Roadhouse together and grab a beer."_

"We saw each other last Tues—."

"_You can get one of Jo's bacon burgers."_

"—day and I'm watching Star Wars—."

"_And potato wedges."_

"—after Indiana. Plus there's a frozen pizza with my name—."

"_I'll buy."_

"I'll see you there in thirty."

Dean dropped the phone, shut down his television, shoved his popcorn into the microwave, and scrambled around for some clothes. Yesterdays jeans and an old Metallica shirt with a hole through the dot in the "i" and a grease stain on the "m" from a day when the Impala was being testy were thrown on without a care. And as an after thought, he racked his hand through his hair a couple of times, rubbed at his horns to get any loose grit out, and then darted out the door, snatching up his keys and using his tail to close the door behind him. The demon trotted down the stairs, jogged across the parking lot to the overhang where his precious car was, and nearly jumped into the driver's seat.

When it came to food, Dean Winchester only ever moved that fast for one of Jo's to-die-for bacon burgers.

* * *

The Roadhouse, owned by a one Ellen Harville, was as busy as a Saturday afternoon could be at a bar-restaurant. Which meant it only had a handful of patrons; a few humans and Unnaturals scattered across the bar and one or two of them tucked into private corner booths.

Dean looked around for Sam, didn't seem him, and slid into their usual booth on the far wall underneath an upside-down wall clock that wasn't ticking. It had been put there by Ellen's not-quite-adopted-son–slash-family-friend, the Fae Gremlin known only as Ash during one of his drunken stupors. Fae Unnaturals indulged far too heavily in spirits and Ash was no different; he was a tech genius but his pensions tended to get the better of him. Why Ellen had never taken the broken clock down was just another mystery of the universe.

"Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Dean Winchester." Dean looked around from his contemplation of the upside-down clock to see Jo Harville, Ellen's daughter, walking up to his table.

"Infamous?" He said with a grin, "Don't let your mom hear you saying that, she'll think I've done something I shouldn't have."

"I can't believe you're scared of my mom," Jo huffed, shaking her head, "Lemme guess, just a beer?"

"And one of your amaaaaazing bacon burgers and a basket of potato wedges." Dean added, "Sam's buyin'."

Jo chuckled, "What's the occasion?"

Dean's tail twitched across the plasticy seat cover, "Uuuhhhmmm, pre-wedding jitters?"

Jo raised an eyebrow in a skeptical manner and turned to the kitchen to get Dean's order ready. Dean watched her go with only the slightest of frowns on his features. He didn't think Sammy was playing him but the Winchesters had been known to start some pretty epic prank wars between one another and sometimes it got nasty. If this was Sam starting in on Dean…but Dean couldn't think of a reason for it.

Jo returned to drop off his beer and he sat nursing it in silence, wondering where in the world his younger brother had gotten to. A few other patrons left The Roadhouse after fifteen minutes of waiting and Dean was starting to get annoyed. Sam had called _him_, therefore Sam should have been here _first_ waiting for him. Jo arrived to serve him his bacon burger and potato wedges and he gave her a surly grunt in return, which earned him a scowl before she stalked off. Dean moodily picked up his bacon burger and opened his mouth to take a big bite.

That was the moment that The Roadhouse door jingled open and Dean looked up automatically.

And froze, the burger at his lips and his mouth wide open. His tail, which had been curling up at the tip, stiffened and did not move.

Standing just inside the doorway wearing a trench coat and a rather lost expression was none other than Castiel. His dark wings were pulled tightly across his back and his bright blue eyes darted across The Roadhouse, searching for someone. When they lit upon Dean, the angel blinked in surprise and the two stared at one another for a long moment. Then Cas shifted, appeared to think about it for a moment, and finally just walked across the room to slide into the booth across from Dean.

Dean slowly set his burger back down onto his plate, "Hey Cas, didn't expect to see you here. I'm waiting for Sam."

Castiel blinked at him and then let out a sigh, "And Jess asked to me to meet her here to discuss employment at the bookstore."

Dean's eyes widened as he put two and two together, "Those…they _duped us_!"

"This seems very much like something my older brother would do…" Castiel murmured, looking a little uncomfortable as he glanced around the establishment. His eyes went back to Dean and the demon swallowed thickly, "I apologize, Dean. If this is a…if this is an inconvenience, I can leave." And he moved to stand up.

Before Dean could think otherwise, his hand shot out and grabbed the sleeve of Cas' trench coat. Castiel stopped, staring at him. Dean yanked his hand back and said as nonchalantly as he could,

"Nah, it's okay. Stay. We're…it's cool, really."

He tried to ignore the way his tail was starting to curl around his leg.

Cas eased back down into his seat as Dean picked up his bacon burger and took a big bite, looking everywhere but at Cas as he chewed. Castiel sat there awkwardly, his hands in his lap, staring at the tabletop because he had no idea what else to do. Dean swallowed and used a free hand to nudge the basket of potato wedges at Cas, urging him to take some. Castiel smiled, just a little, and plucked one up, nibbling on it as he let his eyes roam around the room again, his wings twitching against his back. Jo, having apparently noticed Dean was now sharing his booth, trotted over and paused when she saw it wasn't Sam.

"So Dean, who's your friend?"

Dean swallowed his second bite of bacon burger, "Jo, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Jo Harville. Her mom, Ellen, owns this place."

"Pleasure." Castiel said, holding out his hand. Jo shook it briefly with a smile and asked him what he'd have. Castiel ordered a beer and a small glass of water and took another potato wedge. Jo left. Dean took another bite from his burger and realized he'd have to pay for it after all. Castiel shifted in his seat and plastic-leather beneath him creaked. One of the patrons at the bar coughed. The jukebox was warbling out "Love Song" by The Cure, playing verses about being alone together and feeling at home and feeling young. Dean wished it wouldn't. He finished off his burger and sucked in a deep gulp of beer. Jo brought Cas' drinks and Castiel mimicked Dean. The awkward silence thickened.

"Dean—." Cas began and then balked and couldn't finish his sentence. He dropped his blue gaze to the tabletop and followed the patterns of the wood grain.

Dean swallowed, clenched his jaw for a second, and then took in a deep breath. He let it out very slowly, thought about thinking about what he was about to do, reconsidered, and said as slowly as he could,

"Castiel, may…can I court you?"

Cas raised his head and it tilted to the side in that way Dean knew meant he didn't understand. And, sure enough,

"I'm sorry, Dean, I'm not sure I understand what you are asking."

"Court you. Can I…oh." It had suddenly occurred to Dean that angel culture might be drastically different from demon culture, "Look, um, in demon society when—when someone wants to…" He fought to find the right words that wouldn't so stupid, and corny, and like a bad romantic comedy, "When a demon finds someone that's not just a one-night stand or—or something, someone who's…fuck, _special_. When we find someone we really, really like, we court them as a potential…as a potential…"

Feelings, personal life, and Dean Winchester. Which one of these just doesn't belong here.

"A mate?" Castiel finished and Dean nodded, "Dean are you asking me out?"

"Yeah." Dean mumbled and then felt silly for simply not asking it that way.

Castiel fiddled with his beer bottle, rolling the neck between his fingers so that the bottom scraped across the tabletop. He glanced away from Dean, looked back, away, and then back again and Dean thought maybe it really had been a bad idea to ask.

But then the angel's wings shuddered and Cas said in a low voice, "I was going to ask you. I kept trying but I…couldn't."

Dean smiled and leaned forward, folding one arm across the tabletop, "So? Can I?"

"Court me?" Castiel repeated, "I…what exactly does that mean?"

Dean chewed on a potato wedge as he tried to think of the best way to explain. Growing up a demon, his culture and traditions seemed like a natural thing. He had never imagined trying to explain them to someone else.

"Demons have…we've got all these rituals and traditions that we live by," The Winchester said and bit into another potato wedge, "We can mate with whoever we want and that bond is forever, we only ever choose one mate. But as long as we're still single, we can court as many times as we want until we find…you know, that someone or whatever."

Castiel made a humming noise in his throat, "Angels generally mate for class and wealth. Angels of low class want to marry into a high class and such. There's a complicated hierarchy that exists within all the angels in an area, usually determined by bloodlines and…wing color." At this, Cas pulled his own dark wings close behind his back and Dean's brow furrowed.

"You guys live with a ranking system? That's…weird." The demon admitted, his tail coiling around his beer bottle to lift it to his hand. He didn't miss the way Cas' eyes tracked the movement, "I mean, don't get me wrong, we've got a lot of rules and stuff we live by but it's kind of…loose."

"What do you mean by loose? I'm not sure I understand how rules can be loose."

"Well," And Dean settled back into his seat in preparation for a speech of sorts, "Like our mating rituals; we've got guidelines about how we go around courting our potential mates but they're kind of vague so we can get away with a lot. And there are days that are sacred to us, like the New Moon of October. It's an extremely intimate night for us, nobody works or anything, but families get together and celebrate their bonds. Family is really important to us; it makes us who we are. What?" Because Castiel was smiling.

"It just sounds very wonderful," The angel admitted, "Family getting together like that…"

"Do you have any family around here?"

For a second, something flashed across Cas' face that looked almost like panic and pain. But just as quickly it was gone and he was shrugging and picking at another wedge, "Just an older brother. He's kind of a dick."

Dean laughed, "I'll tell you a secret, Cas: Older brothers are supposed to be dicks."

Castiel smiled and scooted closer to the table, "Yes." He said in a low voice and Dean blinked.

"Yes what?"

"Yes to your question, Dean. You have my permission to court me."

Dean beamed and his tail slipped under the table to wind gently around Castiel's leg. The angel jerked in surprise and his wings flared slightly. But then he smiled in return and reached across the table to weave his fingers together with Dean's.

"Shouldn't I ask your older brother if it's all right for me to court his kid brother?" The demon asked, half joking.

"No. I think it's my turn to be a dick to him." Castiel responded with a cheeky smile.

There was a click and a whir from across the room and Hellogoodbye started singing "Baby, It's Fact" from the jukebox. Dean glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Jo standing over the machine, sending a grin in their direction.

Dean didn't leave her a very decent tip when he left The Roadhouse hand in hand with Castiel.


	7. Chapter 7

_I know some people were complaining about Dean and Cas' relationship moving slowly but you have to understand that's the way this world works. When demons court someone, they don't just fuck their brains out, that's not how their culture works.  
_

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

The _only_ reason Dean was going along with Sam and Jess while they went around doing wedding things was because there was a benefit to him.

Mainly cake.

"I cannot believe you actually agreed to come along with us." Jess said as they stepped out of Sam's car and headed down the sidewalk.

"The only reason he's coming is because we're going cake testing today." Sam threw out with a smirk, stretching out a wing to wrap it around Jess' shoulder.

"Oooohhh, is that so?" Jess teased and Dean huffed, lashing his tail across the sidewalk. Jess smiled warmly at him and Dean couldn't stay angry at her. Sam wound his tail into Dean's, tugged gently on it, and then let go. Dean smacked him with his spade but there was a smile on his face. This was his family.

The bakery was a place on the corner called _Sweet Delights_ and was colored all in pale pinks, yellows, and creams. Dean mimed gagging at the sight of it and Sam scowled at him. Jess ignored both of the brothers and pushed the door open, making the string of silver bells over the door ring pleasantly. The inside of the shop was cream colored and brightly lit, saturated with the smell of baked goods and sugar. There was a display of wedding cake models in the window, a counter topped with a register and brochures and cake toppers stretched from wall to wall across the room, only a few feet from the door, and beyond that was a curtained entrance and a door that apparently led to the kitchen. A radio perched beside the cash register, playing classical music intermingled with quick bursts of news.

"Hello?" Sam called, pulling his wings against his back again and looping an arm around Jess' shoulders instead, "We had an appointment? Hello?"

"…_crime rate on the drug market has been on the rise."_ Said the radio, _"Police across Empyrean are attempting to pin down exactly where these new drugs are coming from. The latest sources may be pointing to Achre—."_

"That's a downer!" Crowed a voice and short man strode out of the kitchen covered in flour and wearing a bright blue apron. He skipped over to the radio and cranked the knob until it was cooing out oldies instead. Then he turned to the trio, clapping his hands together and sending a mushroom cloud burst of flour into the air,

"So, you're the lucky to-be-weds!" The man grinned and a pair of silver-gray wings unfolded from behind his back, beating once to stir up the flour even more, "Boss is in the kitchen fighting with the oven but if you go right back there," He gestured to the curtain covered way behind the counter, "You can sample all our cakes back there, pieces freshly made for your pleasure. If you need anything, just scream really loud and ask for me!" The angel swept around and held open a hinged door to gain access behind the counter,

"Gabriel, at your service~!"

He bowed them dramatically through the counter and then spun around to hold the curtain open with his wing. Jess smiled and thanked him, Sam sent him an approving nod, and Dean ignored him completely, swiping his tail to the side as far away from Gabriel as he could get it. The angel beamed at him and Dean grunted in response before ducking through the curtain.

The small room on the other side was well lit with pale green walls and rows of tables covered in white cloth were spaced evenly across it from one side to the next. On each table was a three tier stand of plates each filled with tiny cupcakes or little trays with slabs of frosting on them. Dean took in a deep breath of air and grinned at the smell of freshly baked goods and sugary frosting. His tail waved back and forth in anticipation.

"Easy Dean," Sam joked, watching the glee spread across his older brother's face, "Remember, this is the cake for the wedding Jess and I are having. So it's not about you."

"Never said it was, Sammy," Dean replied happily, slapping his brother's shoulder as he went past, heading straight for the nearest table, "Never said it was."

For the next twenty minutes, Dean indulged himself with every combination of cake and frosting he could combine. Sam and Jess worked their way through slowly, talking quietly to one another as they went. When they reached one of the tables that Dean had devoured, Sam sent a scowl in his brother's direction.

"If you keep eating all this junk food, you're going to get fat." The youngest Winchester said and then stuck his head out the curtain, calling for Gabriel.

"So Dean," Jess said from across the table where Dean was working through his second batch of custard stuffed cake, "Jo told me you hooked up with an angel at The Roadhouse yesterday."

"Maybe." Dean muttered through a mouthful of cake before he swallowed. Jess made friend with everybody and Dean was quite suspicious about the idea that she used this talent to wheedle into Dean's personal life in a way only Sam could. There was a shuffle from behind him and he looked around to see Gabriel come through the curtain chatting happily at Sam.

"Well, are you bringing him to the wedding?"

"Who?" Dean turned back to the all-important cake and reached for another piece.

"Castiel."

There was a whoosh, a whirl of silver-gray feathers, and Dean found himself shoved against the wall with Gabriel crowding into his personal space. There was a dark frown on the angel's face and his hazel eyes glared at Dean who glared right back, his tail arched around to the side in a sinister manner. Over Gabriel's shoulder, he could see Sam step in front of Jess and spread his wing slightly to protect her, his tail taking its own threatening stance.

"You're the one my little bro's been chasing after, the one he told me about every night on the phone? It's you? A _demon_?" The angel's wings were flared wide over the tabletops in his agitation, the light catching his feathers and lighting up their edges a steel bladed silver, "He told me last night that he'd finally hooked up with you."

"You gotta a problem with that?" Dean growled, "You got a problem with demons? With me dating your younger brother?"

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, looked Dean up and down, and then stepped back, folding his wings at his back as he did so. He lifted his chin in the air and let a smile spread across his face, "No, I don't have a problem with you. None at all. However," A thundercloud crossed his features, "If you hurt Castiel in _any way_…I will make sure it's the last thing you ever do."

Smoke curled out of Dean's mouth with his next words, "I've got a younger brother too and I'm _courting_ Castiel, you asshole. If you were smart, you'd figure it out yourself."

A wicked grin split Gabriel's face and he slapped Dean on the shoulder before stepping back, "All right, I think that's enough posturing for today. Just know I'm watching you, Dean-o." And he flicked two fingers from his eyes in Dean's direction, backing out of the room as he did so.

The two demons and the human watched him go until the curtain had folded back into place. Then Jess and Sam turned to give Dean judgmental looks. Dean scowled at the two of them in return and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his appetite for cake officially ruined.

"Sam," He muttered, "Why couldn't you have gotten pie instead?"

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, "You don't have pies at weddings, Dean."

Dean didn't believe him.

* * *

Monday rolled around and Dean had to deal with a teacher's meeting that evening. It was dull and too long and he really didn't see the point of his attendance as he really had nothing to contribute. But he remained all the same, chin in his hand and elbow on the desk, tail dragging lazily back and forth across the floor and his thoughts on a black-winged, blue-eyed angel waiting for him at the bookstore.

Much to his annoyance, the meeting went on longer than intended because one of the second grade teachers got into an argument with the principle and a first grade teacher about classroom policies that made Dean groan and want to beat his head against something. In the end, the meeting did not get out until 7:30 and Dean was annoyed, tired, and starving. He steered his car to the nearest place with a burger and devoured it with relish along with a box of fries, a chocolate milkshake, and a slice of raspberry pie. When he'd finished and paid, he flopped into the seat of his Impala and sat there quietly in the chilly interior for a moment, thinking. Then he pulled out his cell phone and called Castiel.

It rang several times and then went to voicemail. Dean hung up and tried again. This time, Castiel answered with a flat and somewhat tentative, _"Hello?"_

"Hey Cas."

"_Dean, please do not call me when I am at work."_

"You answered."

There was a crackle of quiet from the other end of a phone line and then Castiel said, _"Did you need something?"_

"What time do you get out of work?"

"_About 9:30. Why do you ask?"_

"I'm going to come visit you."

"_Dean, what—."_ But Dean hung up and dropped the phone into his pocket. He was figuring on Castiel not wanting to look bad at work by calling him back.

Dean started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. But instead of heading directly for the bookstore, he made his way towards a place about a block over. He'd never been there before but he knew it was there because he'd passed by it plenty of times and could only hope it was still open at 8:00 at night.

Luckily for him, the lights were still on at _Tutelary_ when he pulled into the parking lot. But Dean hesitated before climbing out of the Impala; this was new territory for him and he wasn't sure he knew what he was doing. _Tutelary_ was a small, square building that looked like it was made out of black marble and shiny steel in the pale white light spilling from its bright neon sign. Dean's tail twitched nervously as he stepped through the glass front doors into a tiny space where there was another set of steel framed doors plated with frosted glass. He swallowed before pushing those open and edging between the security alarms standing sentry on either side of the double doors.

The inside of the shop was cool and very bright with a thin white carpet and white walls painted with swirling black designs. Around the walls were long display cases with polished glass, there were smaller ones in the middle of the floor, and against the far wall was a metallic looking counter where two demons were chatting quietly with one another. They were both dressed in perfectly pressed black suits and Dean suddenly felt out of place in his worn out jeans and leather jacket. There was some sort of soft jazz playing quietly over the speakers that was pushed so faintly into the background that, even in the quiet, it was barely there at all.

"May I help you?" Asked the female demon of the pair as she stepped out from behind the counter. She was in her late thirties, by the look of her, with straight white horns and a pale pink tail that she held professionally. Her metallic badge said her name was Lilli.

"Er, yeah," Dean shifted on the spot, not sure what to do with his hands so he ended up drumming his fingers into his thigh, "I, uh, I'm…I just started courting and I need a gift, you know, to make it solid and I heard you guys cater to courting and bonded demons so…" He trailed off with a lame shrug, tail curling at the tip.

Lilli just smiled knowingly, "Of course, I understand completely. If you follow me over here, we have a large selection of necklaces and bracelets that are perfect for—."

"Oh, uh, no, wait, sorry, I should have clarified." Dean interjected hurriedly, "She's not a—I mean, he's a, well, he."

Lilli blinked and then nodded with a smile, "My apologies, young man. I believe Lucas would be better suited for this. Lucas, dear."

The male demon who had remained at the counter, fiddling with the computer, looked up as his name was called and trotted out from behind the counter, trading places with his female coworker. He was a bit stocky and average looking but his horns were thin and bright red, two sprouting from each side of his head and one from his forehead. His tail flicked at the floor as he walked, it too a strangely bright red shade.

"Hello, I'm Lucas but you can call me Luce. What can I help you with?" The demon held his hand out and Dean grasped it with a firm handshake.

"I'm Dean and I need a gift to solidify a courting." The words came easier this time and Dean found that he enjoyed saying them.

Luce smiled like he'd been there before and led Dean over to a display case, "So this man of yours—I'm assuming a man because Lili called me over here—what's he like?"

"Uh, kinda stoic, I guess. Quiet." Dean had to siphon through several words that he would use to describe Castiel, trying to be discreet, "He works in a bookstore, likes books, obviously, um…he wears a trench coat and he's an angel."

Luce couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising but he didn't say anything to that statement. Instead, he directed Dean's attention to the display case in front of him. Beneath the glass was a large display of pristine watches, all polished a glowing under the lights overhead. Silver, gold, silver inlaid with diamonds, gold inlaid with topaz, wristwatches, watches on necklaces, pocket watches, and even a classy little thing you could clip onto your belt. Dean blinked at them all and then felt a little faint because he had no idea if he could afford anything in here. The look must have shown on his face because Luce chuckled.

"All of our prices are negotiable," He promised and then dropped his voice, hiding his mouth behind his hand so that Lilli couldn't see, "And we're pretty cheap here anyway. We're the only place around that cater specifically to demonfolk so we try to do good in all circles."

Dean gave a weak smile and looked back at the watches on display. All of them looked very nice (except for a few exceptionally gaudy ones that hurt his eyes just to look at) but Dean just couldn't see Castiel wearing one of them. A wristwatch just didn't seem to suit the dark-winged angel. He instead switched his gaze to the pocket watches; they seemed more like Cas' style.

"Do you guys do engravings?' He asked, still sweeping his green eyes over the watches.

"For extra."

Dean made a humming noise of acknowledgement and peered closer at the selection. Then he settled back on his feet and pointed, "That one. That one right there."

"Did you want to add an engraving to it?"

A sly sort of smile spread across Dean's face, "Yeah. Yeah I would."

* * *

It was pushing closing time when Dean finally showed up at the bookstore, looking a little harassed and breathless. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers scraping against his horns as he approached the checkout counter, and Castiel tracked each movement with a careful, cataloguing eye.

"You're very late." He chided softly when Dean leaned against the countertop and the demon smiled.

"I had something I had to do."

"Was it important?"

"Very important." There was a teasing edge in Dean's voice that made Castiel twitch his wings. Something about Dean Winchester set the angel off; his gruffness, his stubbornness, the way he scowled at the world, the way he was so intently focused on his family. Cas didn't know what it was but he liked it. For all he knew it might have been everything.

"Was it Sam?" The angel asked.

"Nah, Sammy's probably busy bangin' his fiancé. Oh, by the way," A frown appeared on Dean's face as he remembered something, "I met your brother. And you're right, he is a dick."

Castiel was mortified. Gabriel had made no mention of meeting Dean during any of their conversations on the phone and he knew how Gabriel worked. He'd no doubt pinned Dean to a wall and bit his head off about dating his younger brother. It was no secret that Castiel was gay and Gabe had taken it in stride, even supported him, but he was horribly defensive of Cas (though Cas could hardly blame him, given what they'd been through) and had a tendency to chase away Castiel's potential partners with his teasing, mocking, and trickster ways.

"Whoa, Cas, you look like someone just stuck a gun to your head, chill out." Dean reached across the counter and squeezed Castiel's hand in a reassuring manner, "He didn't scare me off. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, I just…" Cas licked his lips and wormed his fingers into Dean's grip instead, squeezing in return, "I apologize for my brother's behavior Dean. We've…a lot has happened. I hope he didn't give you a bad impression of me."

"Bad impression of you?" Dean chuckled and tugged Castiel closer as he leaned over the counter, "I was more worried about a bad impression of me." And he pulled Cas in for a kiss. It was a quick thing, a brief brush of the lips, but it sent a hot shiver through Castiel's body and made his wings flap wildly once or twice.

The demon pulled back with a grin, "Wow. And that was barely a kiss. Hey, I've got something for you."

"What?" Castiel blinked in surprise, "A gift?"

"It's traditional." Dean responded and there was a tentative smile on his face, "The demon who asked their partner for permission to court solidifies the courtship with a gift." The demon reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small white box tied with a black ribbon.

"Here? You want me to take it here? In the store?" Castiel's fingers were already wrapping around the box and intertwining with Dean's.

"No one's around." Dean hummed, his tail curling up into the air, the spade on the end flattening so that it looked as though he had no spade at all.

Cas glanced up and let his blue eyes dart around the shop. There were no patrons around. The barest hint of a smile appeared and he tugged the ribbon off the box. Then he plucked the top off the box and froze, eyes widening.

"Dean," He breathed, "This is… unprecedented."

"Gotta say, that wasn't the word I was expecting."

"It's just that I have never owned anything like this before." The angel admitted as he lifted the gift from the small box. It was a silver pocket watch on a polished chain. On the lid was engraved a simple, delicate letter "C" and on the back, carved in tiny curling letters, were the words "To Castiel, From Dean W". Cas let the watch spin on its chain and then turned to stare at Dean who was watching him was a mixture of anticipation and trepidation and didn't look a little uncomfortable.

"Thank you." The angel said, "I mean it, Dean. No one has ever given me a gift like this before. Except perhaps once but that gift and this are…" He trailed off, shaking his head. Words were inadequate, silly things that were getting stuck in his lungs and shoved his heart up into throat so that even if he wanted to speak, he couldn't.

"Good." Dean said and shifted awkwardly.

"Yes," Castiel said in a low, choked sort of voice, "Yes, it's very good."

And he reached across the counter to grab a handful of Dean's shirt, drag him forward, and plant a very firm kiss on his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

_All right, these chapters are doing their own thing. I don't know how to write a love story._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Dean was high as a kite.

He was floating in the sky, he was on cloud nine, he was punch drunk happy, he was in the best fucking mood he had ever been in.

Anna said he was "positively glowing" and Dean didn't care that she was teasing him.

Becky squealed with delight when she saw him and tried to bombard him with questions. Dean just pushed her out of the way and drifted off down the hall.

His tail was constantly trying to curl up around his leg or was doing its yo-yo thing, curling and uncurling all the way up to his back and then down to the floor again, and his hands trembled if he thought about the way Castiel had kissed him last night. It was so stupid and teenage girl-ish to go to pieces over a guy the way he was doing now but Castiel was the quiet opposite that Dean had never had. Not to mention he was fucking hot.

He let the kids have a free day, tired from his late night and still strung out from the realization that, for the first time since Cassie, he was actually courting someone. And the court with Cassie had ended badly. But Dean was so high up in the clouds that even remembering that didn't bother him. He just stood against the wall and half-watched the children chasing each other around the gym, playing with basketballs and footballs and soccer balls, and rolling around on flat pieces of plastic with three wheels on the bottom. Their shrill laughter bounced off the gym walls with ear-splitting loudness and more than once Dean had to step in to mend bruised fingers, scraped knees, and hurt feelings.

By the end of the day the demon had won himself a pounding headache.

Dean hobbled to the Impala and sank into the driver's seat with a hiss of pain, the biting chill outside having only made the pain worse. It was one of those headaches where every breath triggered a jackhammer behind his eyeballs and a landmine in his temples. What made it worse was that he wanted to see Castiel again, wanted to give him yet another gift for their courting, but his head was just hurting far too much. So, regretting it and hating the universe for the big middle finger it was giving him, Dean drove home instead.

Once back at the apartment, he pulled the curtains closed, left the lights off, and bundled himself into flannel pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. Then he trundled off into his room with a couple of pain relievers and a glass of water, collapsing onto his bed and swallowing the meds and a mouthful of water. Dean closed his eyes and rested his head back against the pillow, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull that made his horns ache and willing the medicine to work a whole lot faster than it was.

His cell phone screeching at him from his pants pocket on the floor made him wince. But he rolled over anyway, dug about for a bit, and finally managed to tug his phone from the confines of the denim.

"Hello?" He grunted.

"_Dean? Are you all right?"_

"Cas?" Dean blinked at his dark ceiling, the end of his tail thumping across the bed a couple of times, "Aren't you at work?

"_I'm on a break. You don't sound very well. Did something happen?"_

"Just a massive headache from a hundred screaming children. Sorry I'm not going to drop by today, I'm not feeling up to it. Forgive me?"

"_Of course I do."_ There was a small pause as Castiel apparently thought something over, _"Dean, tell me your address and I'll—."_

"No." Dean said immediately.

"_But if you wanted, I could—."_

"No, Cas."

"_I don't understand. Why?"_

"Because it's not…appropriate." Dean realized how stupid those words sounded coming from him. But rules were rules, "We haven't reached that point yet in the courtship. Believe me, I would love to have you over here but we—demons live by their guidelines and if we break them we're cast out. It's not pretty. So…so while I appreciate the offer, I'm sorry. No."

"_All right."_ Castiel sounded resigned and Dean wished with all his heart that his head didn't hurt like stampede of fucking stone elephants, _"I will let you get your rest. Feel better soon, Dean."_

"I will." Dean said, "And I'll make this up to you."

He hung up before Castiel could reply, rolled over, buried his face in his pillow, and closed his eyes.

Things were already going wrong.

* * *

Dean made it up to Castiel by buying him a Kindle Fire and shoving it into his hands before the angel could protest.

Castiel, in return, handed Dean a small box of éclairs from _Sweet Delights_. Dean looked at them skeptically until Cas explained that Gabriel always packed him a box of leftovers whether Castiel wanted them or not. He was simply sharing the treats.

Dean very much liked the idea. He also thought the éclairs were delicious.

* * *

There was a step in the courtship that Dean kept putting off, stalling it by continually bringing Castiel gifts. The gifts were little things and seemed rather cheap compared to the watch and the Kindle but Cas accepted each one with a genuine smile and a kiss.

Dean was well aware of the fact that he was stalling because he was nervous. He was also aware of the fact that if he didn't follow through like he was supposed to, he could not continue his courtship of Castiel. He hadn't told anyone this problem but Sam was a genius when it came to what Dean _wasn't_ doing and cornered him one Saturday while Jess cleared the table after another meal in her apartment.

"I know what you're not doing." Sam said as he approached the chair where Dean was sitting, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Sorry, what?" Dean asked innocently, knowing exactly what. His tail shot out and curled around one of the beers in Sam's hand, yanking it out of his younger brother's grasp and bringing it into Dean's waiting arms.

Sam smacked him upside the head with the tip of his wing as he walked by to settle on the couch, "You know what I mean. Your courtship with Castiel, you're stalling out. Again."

Dean huffed and shifted in his seat, his treacherous tail curling in agitation. Trust Sam to call him out on it. Dean had never been good about sharing his private life and especially his feelings and it was always his younger brother who managed to point out the fact that Dean was bottling things up again.

"Yeah, so what." Dean grumbled, slumping lower in his chair and hunching his shoulders up to his ears. The cards lay in a forgotten, off-kilter pile on the coffee table, "We're a couple of demons from a family of demons who have only ever married demons."

"Or humans." Sam threw out with just a touch of irritation, "They didn't have a problem with Jess."

Dean mumbled wordlessly under his breath and then said in a still grumbled voice, "Dad had a problem with me when he found out…"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean, he's over that now! He doesn't care about your…your _fancies_! Look, if you're worried they won't approve of Castiel, I'm sure everything's going to be fine. The longer you put this off, the harder it's going to be."

Dean huffed and grunted and shifted in his chair and took a drink of his beer.

"And Castiel's going to want to meet your parents sooner or later. You're being unfair to him, Dean."

The oldest Winchester knew Sam was right.

But Dean's problem was that he wanted to make everybody happy.

And he wasn't sure Castiel meeting his parents would do that.

* * *

"Cas, remember how I told you that family was important to demons?"

"Family is important to everyone, Dean."

"Yeah, but, I mean, for demons it's…it's like our thing. Without our family, our bonds, we're nobody."

Castiel glanced up from where he was butchering a perfectly good burger by peeling off the tomato on it. The two of them were spending a chilly Saturday afternoon together; they had met for lunch at one of Dean's favorite burger joints and were then planning on going to a place of Castiel's choosing.

"Everybody is somebody." The angel said and dropped the tomato on the edge of his plate with the barest hint of distaste.

Dean snatched the tomato slice and wedged it into his own burger, tucking it in before licking the sauce off his fingers and saying, "When you're kicked out of the demon community, nobody goes near you. All of your relations and connections are severed and you're left with nothing. It's how we work, it's how we stay strong."

"Interesting," Castiel said, tilting his head as he watched Dean heft up his overstuffed burger. Though whether he found demon culture or Dean's choice of food interesting was a little vague.

"Anyway," Dean took a large bite, chewed, and swallowed, "Anyway, the point is that part of the…the courting thing is that you have to…you, um…" The burger was slowly eased down towards the plate and Dean suddenly wasn't meeting Castiel's gaze, "Youhavetomeetmyparents."

Castiel blinked, "What?"

Dean sucked in a deep breath and said in a slower tone, "You have to meet my parents."

Another blink and another head tilt, this one canting even further to the side. Dean chewed through three more nervous bites of his burger. Cas stared at him. Then, slowly, he plucked up his own food and took a bite, chewing slowly and almost thoughtfully. Dean finished off his burger and licked his fingers clean again, his tail beating out an agitated rhythm against the floor. The white noise of the rest of the restaurant swarmed into the silence between them.

Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore and he blurted, "So?"

Cas, who was now three quarters of the way through his burger, paused and said, "So what?"

"So will you meet my parents?"

"Do they live in town?"

"Uh, about forty-five minutes outside it."

"When did you want to hold this meeting?"

Dean chuckled when Castiel made it sound like a business formality, "I can call them later and set up something for tomorrow night. The sooner the better."

"You wish to finish courting me that quickly?" Cas raised an eyebrow but Dean wasn't quite sure if he was joking or being serious, "I was rather enjoying the experience."

"Oh no, I'm not rushing anything," Dean leaned forward and reached across the table to grasp Castiel's hand in his own, a shit-eating smirk starting to spread across his face,

"I just can't wait to get to the good stuff."


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry that last one was so short, it just seemed like a good place to stop._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Dean could act like a tough guy all he wanted but anyone who knew him wasn't fooled at all. Dean Winchester was nervous. He hadn't even reached this point in the courtship with Cassie, she had broken it long before he'd even he'd worked up the guts to even think about it. And now he was going to show Castiel to his parents.

It wasn't anything to do with needing a blessing (if it had been, Dean would have needed Gabriel's blessing to court Cas and he had a feeling that Gabriel wouldn't have been so inclined to give him one) but simply a matter of principle. Demons lived in a pack-like structure, keeping their families and friends close. Most demons never left the areas where they were born, the idea of reconstructing ties to impossibly large to comprehend or bear. There was no hierarchy in demon culture, everyone was equal in the eyes of the community, and they all kept careful track of one another. If a new demon moved into town or someone was mated into the demon community, the other demons tried their best to make them feel welcome, a part of the giant family web that stretched across the town.

Castiel had to become a part of that web if Dean wanted to continue courting him and the first step in becoming a part of the community was meeting the parents.

Cas wanted Dean to pick him up from his house on Sunday evening but Dean, following the basic rules of demon courtship, refused. He instead met the angel at the bookstore—Castiel had taken the evening off—and picked him up in his Impala. It took some situating but Cas managed to fold his wings over the edges of the seats in such a way that he could fit comfortably. Dean watched him the entire time and then turned pink when Castiel caught him at it. Dean fumbled for the shift and then flicked on the radio, pulling out of the parking lot a little sharper than he meant to.

Dean had told Cas to wear whatever he wanted, that demons didn't really care all that much about formal appearances, but Cas had still dressed himself in ironed dark jeans, a button down shirt, and a suit jacket. He had forgone his tie (which was probably for the best as he had a tendency to wear it backwards) but was still wearing his ridiculous trench coat and a very fuzzy looking, bright red scarf that looked strange on him. Dean felt decidedly out of place beside him, wearing ratty and faded blue jeans and an old long sleeved shirt printed with the peeling letters of a classic rock band. And, of course, his patent leather jacket. Castiel looked at his open jacket and the shirt beneath and asked if he was cold.

The demon in the driver's seat shrugged as he turned onto the interstate, "No, not really. It takes a lot more than this to make me cold."

"Do demons have higher body temperatures than other people?" Castiel asked curiously and if as an experiment he pressed the back of his hand against Dean's cheek.

Dean's skin prickled and he smiled despite himself, "You know if you keep distracting me we're going to crash." Castiel chuckled and pulled his hand back, "As for your question, I really don't know. I think we might, though. Our ancestors way back when used to be able to breath fire so I guess it wouldn't be that weird to think we're a little hotter than the average person."

"You are hotter than the average person."

"That was so unsubtle."

Cas hummed and looked out the window, watching the towering streetlamps pass by. Dean moved his tail around from beside the driver's side door, wedged it behind him, and slipped it into the feathers of Castiel's wing. The angel immediately seized up and yanked his wing away, ramming it into the room of the car in a way that must have been painful because he winced and one hand came up and ran through the dark and rumpled feathers. Dean realized he must have crossed a line somewhere.

"Sorry." He muttered, returning his gaze to the road.

"It is all right, Dean," Castiel said, "It's not as if you knew better. There are…are rules amongst angel kind about the touching of wings. It is an intimate thing, to touch another's angel's wings." He turned slightly, those blue eyes matching the smile on his lips, "Later I will teach you what is appropriate and what is not."

Dean grinned, "I look forward to it."

The silence that followed was still a little bit awkward so Dean fiddled with the heating to take his mind off of it. "High Way to Hell" buzzed from the speakers and Dean wondered if the universe was trying to be ironic with his music on purpose and if maybe he should quit the classics for a while.

Then Castiel asked, "May I touch your tail?"

Dean quivered at the very idea and clenched his hands tightly on the wheel so Castiel couldn't see, "Yeah, sure. Just don't pull it."

Cas' lips twitched in a smile. He reached out a hand, hesitated over Dean's tail which was rippling against the space between the seats, and then ran his fingertips over the surface. The tail curled around Castiel's hand and looped down to his wrist and Cas actually laughed, rubbing his fingers against it.

"I didn't know demon tails had peach fuzz." Castiel said, letting Dean's tail coiling further around his hand and wrist.

"Little known fact." Dean replied with a smirk, turning the Impala down an off ramp and onto a tree-lined road, "Another little known fact: we use our tails to talk."

"To talk?" Cas asked curiously, tilting his head slightly as he pulled his hand—and Dean's tail—into his lap so he could use his other hand to play with the red appendage tangled in his fingers.

"Yeah." Dean choked out as he felt the tug at the base of his spine, "Tail speak. You know how dogs wag their tails when they're happy? It's kind of like that except less stupid."

"So what did it mean when your tail coiled around your leg every time you saw me?" The sly little smile on Castiel's face said he probably had an inkling of what it meant.

"Um, we're almost there, can you let go of my tail now?" Dean's defensive mechanisms were playing dumb and getting angry. He played dumb.

"No." Cas tightened his grip on Dean's tail as the demon tried to tug it away, "I want to hear you say it."

"Cas…" The pressure on his tail felt stupidly good and Dean twisted his tail in Castiel's grip, just to feel the angel hold onto him tighter. He eased off the gas, slowing the car down as they drew closer to the old Winchester home.

"Say it, Dean, please."

"I…it's because I was attracted to you. _Am_ attracted to you." Green flickered and met blue, "I like you. A lot. And I barely know you."

"Soul mates." Castiel said but Dean didn't know if he was joking or being serious. Either way, he let go of Dean's tail and the demon slowly withdrew it, dragging the narrowed spade across Cas' legs as he pulled it back onto his side of the car.

"See, you have nothing to worry about, Dean," Cas continued and there was no doubt that he was being serious now, "I am right here. I am not going to embarrass you."

"I didn't think you would," Dean smirked, falling into a playful banter state, "You're too classy." He spun the wheel and pulled into his parents' drive, throwing the Impala into park with a groan.

"What?"

"Sam's here too…the dick."

Dean climbed out of the car, waited for Castiel, and then together they walked up to the house. Dean's tail twitched across the ground in agitation and nerves and, despite Castiel's words previously, the angel's wings flicked the air, feathers puffing up along the edges.

The house was a pleasant two story one painted blue-gray with a chimney and too many windows. Or enough windows to let all the light in, Dean can never decide. The old tree in the front yard has grown some since Dean last saw it and is starting to creep its branches towards the roof and out over the road, the porch has flower baskets hanging from it, and the front door has a new paint job, fixing all the scrapes and dents that had accumulated across its surface over the years. Dean sucked in a deep breath through his nose and took in all the familiar scents of home. Then he reached out and knocked on the door.

It was flung open almost immediately by Sam who was wearing a giant grin and swept Dean up in a hug as if he was the proud older brother or something. Dean squirmed and battered at him until Sam set him down. But their tails twisted together for a grief moment so that was enough. Dean saw Castiel watching the tail gestures out of the corner of his eye and made a point to flare his spade in Sam's direction, letting his brother know exactly what he thought about his presence at the house. Sam just snorted and his own tail flicked the air as he turned away.

"Mom! Dad!" The youngest Winchester shouted as he left the entrance room, "Dean's here with his boyfriend!"

Dean rolled his eyes and gave Castiel an apologetic look before taking the angel's hand and following after Sam. They moved through the living room, the dining room, and then into the kitchen. Dean immediately warmed up to the smell of homemade cooking and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He tightened his hold on Cas' hand as Sam moved to the corner of the room to start tugging plates from a cupboard.

The woman at the stove turned around and smiled brightly, walking across the kitchen to draw Dean into a warm hug. Her dark red tail intertwined with Dean's for a moment before she stepped back, looking the other demon up and down, her polished black horns glittering in the light through her golden hair.

"Dean," She said happily and then looked past him to look at his partner, "Oh, and this must be Castiel! Nice to meet you, I'm Mary Winchester." She held her hand out and Cas unwove his fingers from Dean's to shake it.

"A pleasure to meet you." Castiel said, wings ruffling against his back, "I'm Castiel Novak."

"John!" Mary shouted, leaning around Dean and Cas to shout out of kitchen, "Get down here! Your son's brought his partner!"

Dean flushed and pulled Castiel aside so that they were out of the way, pressing their shoulders together. There was a series of thumps from the upper floor and then trundling footsteps coming down the stairs. A man with dark hair peppered in gray, red rams horns, a matching tail, and a pair of wings that closely resembled Sam's folded between his shoulder blades strolled into the room, looked around, spotted Dean, and grinned.

"Dean!"

"Hey Dad," Dean sounded tentative but he smiled at his father all the same, "This is Castiel. Cas, this is my Dad, John Winchester."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Castiel said, offering his hand. John looked him up and down, tail coiling and uncoiling behind him, and then took Cas' hand and shook it a little stiffly.

Dean felt like some sort of tension had eased a bit and looked over John's shoulder to see Sam smiling at him. And it wasn't a mocking smile but rather one that said he was happy for Dean, that he was hopeful for him. Dean smiled back and entwined his fingers with Castiel's again.

He'd work things out somehow.

* * *

Dinner was wonderful and it wasn't just the food.

Mary warmed right up to Castiel, apparently finding him absolutely adorable, and practically doted on him the entire evening. She urged him to try every dish and teased Dean about hogging Cas all to himself. John was a little more subdued, trying to act like a tough dad, the kind that cleaned the shotgun on his lap when his kid brought their date home, but he wasn't fooling anyone. Both Dean and Sam recognized the signs and knew that John Winchester approved of Castiel, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.

Cas himself was a pleasant houseguest. He was obviously nervous about the meeting but he talked with each Winchester, giving them all equal amounts of his attention, sampled every dish that was put in front of him, and tried very hard to please everyone. Dean wanted to hit him and tell him to stop being so stiff, that this wasn't a formal occasion, but maybe this was Castiel's defense mechanism and he couldn't blame the guy for it if it was.

"So Cas, where do you work?" Mary asked as she dished out a third helping of steamed broccoli onto the angel's plate.

"A bookstore in town," Castiel replied, deftly shielding his plate with his fork in manner that looked natural and hardly rude at all but clearly conveyed the message of 'no more please', "It's on Eingles Road, in the strip mall."

"I know that place," Mary nodded, "It's very nice. How did you meet Dean?"

"He stalked me in the bookstore."

Dean choked and sputtered and flapped his hands in the air over his plate, shaking his head. Sam roared with laughter and Castiel smirked at Dean while Mary and John shared a chuckle and a knowing smile.

"So do you have any friends or family around here?" John asked, plunging on with the parental interrogation, Sam's laughter petering down in the background.

"Not…not really," There was a slight edge to Castiel's voice that said they were toeing into dangerous territory, a place that Cas wasn't ready to venture into comfortably yet, "Just an older brother, Gabriel, who works at a bakery."

"Where're you from, then?" John pressed on, heedless of the panic sparking in the angel's blue eyes, of the way those blue-black feathers were quivering.

"F-from out of town."

"Well obviously, but I mean—"

"Dad." Dean said sharply, a little sharper than he meant to. John looked up at his son, glanced at Castiel who was staring at his plate with a forcefully blank expression, and then grunted. There was an awkward tension in the air after that and no one quite knew what to say for a while.

Then Sam broke it by commenting on his mother's cooking and Dean asking him snarkily if mom's cooking was better than Jessica's and everyone laughed at Sam getting all flustered and huffy and bitchfacing (Number 76: 'I really, really hate you sometimes you stupid dick'). Dean let his tail twist around Castiel's leg underneath the table and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Cas looked around at him and returned the gesture with a small smile that looked even brighter in his eyes.

Then Mary produced ice cream and a homemade pie for dessert and all of Dean's rational went out the window.

Needless to say, it was something of a fiasco. But a good fiasco, the kind that they would look back on later and laugh at because the thought of it filled them with joy. Castiel proclaimed that Mrs. Winchester's pie was definitely the best pie he had ever had, Sam ate too much ice cream and not enough pie (according to Dean), and John actually clapped Cas on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

Bonds were forged with golden links as delicate as silk and as strong as steel.

When Dean left to take Castiel back to the bookstore, John Winchester shook Castiel's hand for a long time and said Cas had better take care of his eldest because the older ones were always stupider. Castiel had jokingly wondered allowed if that it explained Gabriel's behavior. Dean had scowled playfully at the both of them but hugged his father and twined their tails together all the same.

Mary Winchester hugged Dean, kissed his cheek, and then did the same with Castiel. The angel blinked in surprise at the gesture but gladly returned the hug with a promise to return if there was going to be more of the delicious pie involved.

Then the Impala was rumbling its way back across the interstate with classic rock rolling out of the stereo, streetlights and the headlights of other cars flickering through the windows as they passed by.

Dean slid his tail into Castiel's lap and the angel took it without question, rubbing soft, soothing circles into the joint where the spade met the rest of the tail. They talked quietly for a while about the dinner, about Sam's stupid hair, about what Cas thought of Dean's family. And then a comfortable silence followed them the rest of the way back into town.

When he got out of the car, Castiel pressed a hot kiss to Dean's lips and left the demon wanting more.


	10. Chapter 10

_So I don't remember who it was (sorry) but someone mentioned, uh, Gedry who wrote some SPN stuff so I looked 'em up. Read "The Smallest Act of Caring" and "This is All Life Really Means" and normally I don't tolerate Sabriel because I just don't understand it but I didn't mind it in these fics. Very nicely written fics and—okay, I admit it, now I'm all flustered because I feel like someone's already done this shtick that I'm writing ESPECIALLY considering what happens later._

…_er, I'm not really sure where I was going with that. I forgot. However, to the person who mentioned Gedry, thank you for pointing me in the direction of some excellent Destiel fiction. It's much appreciated._

_Now send me more._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Dean kept up his routine of visiting Castiel at the bookstore after work, sometimes bringing along little trinkets but mostly just for the company. Occasionally, Castiel would hand him a box from _Sweet Delights_ that would be stuffed full with cookies, doughnuts, bagels, and other tasty treats. Gabriel, Cas explained, had a massive sweet tooth and couldn't seem to comprehend the fact that his younger brother did not share this trait.

"One of these days," Dean said idly as he leaned against the checkout counter one evening, "You're going to have to teach me what I can do with those wings of yours."

Cas' wings flared, apparently at the idea of Dean running his fingers through them, and a pink tinge crept across his cheeks. Dean grinned and Castiel tried to make up for his wings' behavior, "Then _you_ will have to teach me tail speak."

The demon on the other side of the counter made a humming noise of acknowledgment, "All right then, when do you have a free day to come over to my place?"

"Oh, I'm allowed to now?" Castiel raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner.

"Yeah, parental permission and everything." Dean replied with a smirk, "So? How about Saturday? Are you free?"

"I am now." Cas said in a low voice and Dean's tail banged against the counter as it made an attempt to get to Castiel's leg. Failing that, it coiled painfully tight around Dean's, making him twitch. Castiel saw the movement, peered over the counter, and smiled.

* * *

On Friday evening after a brief stop at the bookstore, Dean fell into a cleaning frenzy. It wasn't that he was messy and left dishes piled in the sink or clothes draped over the backs of chairs but he did tend to leave magazines, movies, and records lying about in piles around after he was finished with them. So he grabbed all of the books he'd left teetering around the coffee table and behind the couch and wedged them into the bookshelf in the second room, gathered up all his magazines and hid them in the closet telling himself he'd go through them someday and get rid of the useless ones, and then stood there for a little while looking at his records before gathering them all up and placing them in careful stacks around the stand holding his stereo system.

Then he got nervous about having Castiel in his apartment, fidgeted on the couch for a few minutes, and started washing the dishes. When he'd finished that he changed the sheets on both beds, dusted, and folded a basket of clothes. In times of nervousness, Dean's default was to fall back on his Impala and find tune it. But it was A) too late to do something like that without complaints from the neighbors and B) too cold to sit outside anyway. So he was stuck with domestic household chores.

Dean kind of hated that he was getting flustered and tangled up about this because it shouldn't have been a big deal. But he wanted to make a good impression. It wasn't that he thought Cas was out of his league (in fact, he felt like he was on equal ground with the angel), it was just that he really, really liked Castiel. When Dean got a crush he got a crush bad and he had a terrible habit of trying to make everyone happy, even if he forgot about himself in the process.

* * *

Castiel knocked on Dean's door a little after twelve, his cheeks flushed pink, his hair tousled, and the feathers of his dark wings askew. Dean let him in, closing the door behind him, and told Cas to just toss his coat and scarf over the back of the chair by the door. Castiel did so, hesitantly, and then rubbed his hands over his cheeks as if trying to warm up.

"Dude, did you _fly here_?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded, "I do not own a car. Gabriel was going to drive me but he got called into work early to replace someone's shift and couldn't. So I flew."

"Man Cas, you are not dressed nearly warm enough to be flying in this weather." Dean reprimanded, moving into the kitchen and filling up a couple of coffee mugs with milk, "You need at least five more coats, gloves, a hat—dude, a ski mask! It's dangerous to fly out in the cold." He ripped open three packets of coco, dumped two in one mug and the last in the other before putting both into the microwave and turning it on.

Then he turned back to Castiel who was still standing awkwardly by the door, hands under his arms. Dean took pity on him and steered him to the couch, instructing him to sit down and wait right there. The demon hurried out of the room and came back with the thickest comforter he had—a bulky, plaid patterned, green thing that used to belong to Sam. He handed it to Cas and then went to get the hot coco out of the microwave. When he returned to the couch, Castiel had bundled himself in the comforter, even wrapping it around his wings. Dean couldn't help but smile at the image and handed Cas the cup of hot chocolate with one packet of coco in it; he liked the double but remembered that Cas' sweet tooth really wasn't all that sweet.

"So why didn't you call me to come pick you up?" The demon asked as he set his cup down and started fiddling with his record player. He didn't know what to put on but really didn't want an awkward silence filled with nothing sitting around so he picked up the nearest album and slid it onto the player. It just so happened to be The Who's _Quadrophenia_ and the sounds of the sea rolled quietly through the speaker system.

"I did not want to inconvenience you." Castiel responded honestly and took a sip of his steaming drink as Dean walked back across the room to sit on the couch beside him, "It would have involved you driving there and back and—"

"Well too bad, because I'm going to do that when we're done here." Dean said firmly, "There's no way I'm letting you fly back to your place in the cold again."

Castiel looked, for a moment, quite annoyed as if Dean had done something that reminded him of something he didn't like. But then the expression was gone and Cas was staring at Dean wtih those eyes that were so blue they should really be illegal,

"Why is your tail doing that?"

Dean was well aware of what his tail was doing but he looked around at it anyway. It was drooping off the edge of the couch onto the floor but the spade was flared slightly and had begun to curl inwards. He snorted and turned back to Castiel,

"It means I'm annoyed with you. But only a little bit."

"Tell me more." Castiel demanded, "At least until my wings warm up."

Dean chewed on his lip a moment, absently massaging the base of one of his horns, completely aware of Castiel watching him. He smiled, set his mug down, and scooted forward, gently taking one of Castiel's hands in his own. The Who was singing about the slaves of the phony leaders in the background as Dean raised Cas' hand to his forehead and wrapped the angel's fingers around his horn. Cas' eyes were wide and when Dean let go of him, he just sat there staring with his fingers still around Dean's left horn. Dean chuckled and said,

"Rub your fingers at the base, where the horn comes through the skin."

Castiel looked at him uncertainly but did as Dean requested, his fingertips pressing lightly as he gently rotated in tiny circles. Dean made a low growling noise in the back his throat because god_damn_ it felt good. Cas paused and Dean pushed into his hand, forcing Castiel's hand to wrap around his horn.

"Don't stop," He muttered and then added, "Don't push to hard. It's super sensitive."

"I can tell." Cas curled his whole hand around the horn and slowly, gently twisted his hand around it. Dean shivered at the touch and his tail thudded against the floor, the spade dragging across the carpet, his eyelids lowering. It felt incredibly good to have someone else touch his horns, no one had done it in years and Dean had forgotten the pleasure of it.

Castiel suddenly withdrew his hand and Dean huffed. Cas raised an eyebrow and took a drink of his coco, "I thought you were supposed to be educating me."

"Cheeky." Dean said, leaning back in his seat and swinging his tail up into the air to display the completely flattened spade on the end, "See that, now you've got me all hot and bothered."

"Explain, Dean. At least give me the basics. If I am going to be a part of your family, I want to understand your culture."

"How in the world can you make it sound so boring?" Dean scoffed but there was smile on his face. He let The Who play "Helpless Dancer" as he took a drink of his hot chocolate and thought about how best to go about this.

"Well," He said after a minute, "This is still going to be a little difficult, I think. I mean, I grew up with this, I know it on instinct. I can teach you the basics but I can't see you getting more than that, no offense, dude."

"None taken." Castile replied with a nod, "All right, then, Dean, teach me."

"Okay, firstly," Dean straightened up so that he wasn't partially seated on his long, thin tail, giving it a wider range of motion, "Generally every demon has a tail, I've only met one or two who don't, and every demon has a sort of…default tail position which is usually like this." Dean twitched his tail into his S-shape which was a little odd sitting down but got the point across.

"When the spade on the end is flared," The spade flared on the end of Dean's tail, wide and almost a perfect isosceles triangle, "It's—it's kinda negative emotions. When there's the flared spade and the curled tail," Dean curled his tail into a spiral against his lower back, "It's usually annoyance but it can be anger too." Dean uncoiled his tail and flattened the spade, "A flattened spade—."

"Means you're aroused?" Cas guessed and Dean smirked.

"Faster learner. And generally, yeah, that's what it means. But sometimes it's submissive too." Dean flexed his tail and, spade still flattened, drooped it bonelessly to the floor.

Castiel shed the comforter, leaned forward, and grabbed Dean's tail, pulling it into his lap, "And those are the basics?" He asked, massaging his fingers across the surface of the appendage. The tail rippled across his lap and wrapped around his hand, slightly narrowed spade rubbing against the inside of his wrist, "Is it all right for me to touch your tail in public?"

"Dude, you can grab my tail whenever you want." Dean said and then snickered because apparently he was five and it sounded dirty, "There's no rules against it. Demons are all for public displays of affection as long as no one's staring. It's kind of complicated. We like to flaunt out mates or potential partners but you're not supposed to watch if a couple is having a seriously intimate moment; it's considered really rude."

"What about when you intertwined tails with Sam or your mother and father?"

"Family bonds." Dean explained in a tight voice because Cas was thumbing that joint between the spade and his tail again and it was sending impossibly good shivers up and down his spine, "We, uh, w-we…loosely twisting your tail into another demon's is usually re-reserved for family and very, very close friends," Dean tried to swallow his stutter as Castiel squeezed gently and rubbed the ridge of the spade that was slowly folding in on itself, "If they're twined together really tightly it's a really i-intimate gesture—Cas, you gotta stop or I'm never gonna finish!"

Castiel smirked. He'd known exactly what he was doing. But he let go of Dean's tail and the demon (somewhat regretfully) pulled it out of the angel's personal space, settling back into the couch and taking a long drink of his quickly cooling coco. Somewhere along the lines, it seemed as though Cas had finished his because there was an empty mug on the coffee table though Dean didn't remember seeing him drink it all. But then, he was an easily distracted demon.

"Okay, featherbrain," Dean teased, "Your turn. Talk about the wings." He gestured with a free hand as he spoke.

Cas looked over his shoulder and spread one wing out as far as it would go. They were quite huge, Dean saw, and inexplicably gorgeous. A million shades of dark blue showed up in the black of those feathers, shifting like oil. Dean's fingers twitched with the desire to touch them and his the tip of his tail beat the floor once or twice.

"People do not touch our wings, angels generally do not touch one another's wings," Castiel said and for some reason Dean felt like he was being told all of this from a textbook, "Not even in a fight. Mates or potentials thereof are allowed to but it is usually discouraged in public." Cas folded his wing back in and turned to Dean, "When we are alone, you may touch them all you want. I was not prepared for your…your advances in the car and I apologize for my behavior."

"It's cool, I didn't know." Dean said, draining his lukewarm coco as The Who wound down into "Sea and Sand", "So what am I allowed to do in public."

"Very little, unfortunately," Castiel replied and Dean huffed, muttering under his breath about feathered dicks and their rules. Cas smiled a little, "You may rest your hand on them very briefly, on the feathers themselves or between my shoulders, or smooth the feathers once or twice."

"Booooorrriiinnngg." Dean proclaimed and set his empty mug down. He crawled across the couch so that he was nearly on Castiel's lap and pressed his lips lightly against the angel's before pulling back a little and saying in a low voice, "Tell me how you want me to touch them now."

Castiel shuddered beneath him and the hand that wasn't bracing himself on the couch came up to finger Dean's horns again. He was delicate about it, as if the horn were made of glass and pushing on it too hard would break it. Dean hummed appreciatively and pressed his chest flush against Cas', winding his arms around the angel to get at his wings. The feeling of the feathers against his fingers was wonderful and Dean couldn't help but grab a handful of them, tugging gently to see what Cas would do.

The effect was immediate. Castiel jerked and made a breathy, moaning noise that sounded so fucking needy that Dean nearly lost it right there. But he reigned himself in and his tail slipped under into Castiel's pant leg, twining slowly against the angel's skin as Dean wove his hands deeper into those blue-black feathers. Their lips pressed together, a confused mess at first because Cas didn't know which way to turn his head to avoid those horns, but eventually hot and tangled. Dean let his tongue swipe the inside of Cas' lips and Castiel quivered, wings rustling, nearly flapping in Dean's grasp. The angel had dropped his hand from Dean's horns and it was now wandering across Dean's knew, his thigh, his ass, and then—god_damn it_—Castiel's fingers wedged into the opening in Dean's jeans where his tail came through and pushed where skin met tail.

Dean was ashamed to say that he made the most needy keening noise ever and arched against Castiel, head tilting back to expose his neck and one hand dropping from those wings to press against Cas' thigh. Castiel bucked against him involuntarily and mouthed Dean's neck, kissing his collarbone through his shirt, his Adam's apple, his jawline, ferocious and hot and pushing hard against the demon's skin. The spade on Dean's tail found the edge of Cas' boxers in his pants and slid underneath it. Dean brought his head back down, his entire body feeling flushed and bright and his green eyes met Cas' blue ones and fuck him silly if they weren't glowing with neon energy and devastating want. The demon curled his arm around the angel even more, found the spot where Cas' wings came through his shirt in a puff of downy blue-ish feathers and purposely wound his fingers into those feathers as deeply as he could. Castiel gasped against his lips, sucking in a mouthful of Dean's exhaled air, and his hand slid up to the hem of Dean's jeans, then to his shirt, and finally slipped underneath to begin pawing at the demon's back.

He didn't get very far.

It fell apart in an instant.

Dean tore himself away from Castiel in a breathless panic, curled on the other side of the couch before the angel was even aware that Dean had moved. The demon was pressing his back against the armrest, breathing heavily, not looking at Cas, his tail arching over his shoulder with the spade flared wide. It didn't look threatening, just scared.

"Dean?" Castiel asked huskily, trying to keep the need from his shaking frame as he stared at his partner. Something had triggered this and he needed to know what, "Are you all right? Did I do something wrong?"

"N-no, I…it's my fault, I hah—haven't—I didn't…" Dean bit his lip hard, dragging his teeth across the soft skin and Cas tried desperately to keep his mind on the subject at hand, "It's not appropriate, not yet. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't—I'm sorry."

"Please stop apologizing, it is not your fault." Castiel said, leaning forward to put his hand on Dean's knee but Dean jerked away almost instinctively. Cas hesitated and Dean, realizing what he'd done, licked his lips, swallowed, opened to his mouth to probably apologize again, and then let his shoulders slump.

"Is something bothering you?" Cas asked.

"Ye—no. Sort of." Dean said and he still would not meet the angel's gaze, "Look, it was…it's too soon for that—for _this_. We're not…there yet. I'm sorry for leading you on." He finally lifted his gaze, green eyes filled with apologies and uncertainties and worries and pains and fears and desperations,

"Forgive me?"

"Always." Castiel said soothingly and tried to smile reassuringly. Dean's lips quirked but that was it, "Perhaps I should go now. It is getting late."

"Er, yeah, sure." Dean shifted in his seat, obviously remembering his promise but feeling awkward about seeing it through. But he stood up anyway, grabbed his leather jacket and his keys, shoved his feet into some shoes as Castiel pulled on his own coat and scarf, and then led the angel out into the parking lot.

The drive to Castiel's apartment was quiet except for Cas giving Dean directions and awkward and the radio did not cover the deadly silence between them. Castiel wasn't angry with Dean, just curious and worried about him.

And he hated himself for thinking it but he knew that Dean's words about their behavior being inappropriate had been nothing more than excuses.


	11. Chapter 11

_Okay, this one ended up longer than I thought but that was because I really didn't want to break it apart._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Castiel did not push Dean about what had happened that Saturday and Dean, being as he was, acted as thought nothing had happened. They kissed, invaded one another's personal space, Cas tugged on Dean's tail quite frequently, and Dean stroked Cas' feathers whenever he could.

But neither of them initiated a passionate moment like the one before.

Dean got busy with his job as a gym teacher, planning out the schedule for the kiddies that was regulated by the education board with mandatory things like a Physical Fitness Day and learning the basics of all the majors sports (football, baseball, and all the rest). But even with struggling through a program and having to deal with screaming children, he still made time to visit Castiel at the bookstore.

And one blustery day in late September, Cas surprised him.

Dean was teaching the kids the fundamentals of basketball and chuckled to himself every time he saw one of the eight year olds frowning in concentration as they tried to dribble the ball across the court. Most of the balls escaped the pudgy fingers of their owners and went trundling around the gym on their own, often with their children chasing after them, various appendages flapping. Dean took his usual spot against the brick wall of the gym, watching with a small smile, tail swinging. He retrieved run away basketballs, and mended scrapes and bumps, and at one point tried to get all the kids to line up so they could try and shoot baskets one after another. But it was Wednesday and the little guys would have none of it, getting bored halfway through the exercise and drifting away to roll their balls across the floor or to try and practice their dribbling skills again. Dean just shook his head and let it happen, not at all in the mood to crush their little spirits.

He was racing a kid for control of a run away basketball (purposefully letting the little human boy get ahead of him) when he spotted a familiar figure standing in the doorway to the gym. Dean pretended not to notice Castiel watching him and leapt after the basketball. The human boy—Ted—squealed at the intrusion and put on a burst of speed. Dean let Ted overtake him and slowed to a halt only to let out an exaggerated cry of surprise when Ted grabbed the basketball, turned around, and threw it at Dean. The demon caught it and tossed it to the floor, smacking it with his tail a couple of times to get it to bounce, and then nudged it in Ted's direction. The human child took the ball and ran with it, disappearing into the crowd of his fellow classmates. Dean backed carefully through the tangle of children and made his way towards the door.

"Get that stupid, domestic, housewife expression off your face," The demon teased as he stopped at Castiel's side, turning back to face the screaming kids.

"No." Cas said with a smirk and spread his wings slightly so they brushed across Dean's back. Dean's tail coiled around the feathers for a second before releasing and dropping into its default position.

"Did you fly here from the bookstore?" Dean asked, glancing at Cas out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, but I dressed 'properly' this time." The angel assured him, "Two sweaters, my coat, a scarf, hat, gloves, and goggles."

"Goggles?" Dean snorted, turning completely to look at his partner, "Seriously? Goggles?"

Castiel plucked at the goggles dangling around his neck, misted slightly from the temperature differences, "They were a gift from my cousin. I have always used them during the colder months."

"Cousin? Thought you didn't have any family around here." Dean muttered, returning his gaze to the children, green eyes alert for danger.

"Balthazar does not live in this city," Castiel responded and there was a strange tinge to his voice that Dean couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, it made his tail curl as Cas continued talking, "He moves around a lot but he calls every so often to…to ask how Gabriel and I are getting along."

"Sounds like you guys are pretty close."

"Not really." Cas hummed, fingers fiddling with his scarf, "Gabriel and I are, we…we grew up together, have never been separated. He still calls me every night to make sure I am sa—all right. Balthazar is not actually our cousin but we call him so because…well, because."

There was a reason behind that because, a bubbling, black ooze of a reason that sent tar sticky bubbles to the surface and let them burst. But Dean didn't push, did not stick his fingers into that dark ooze. Instead, he said, completely seriously,

"Family doesn't end in blood."

"No," There was a pleasant smile on Castiel's face and those bubbles of tar black disappeared, "No it certainly doesn't."

"By the way," Dean moved further into the gym, eyeing a group of youngster who looked as though they were getting ready for a squabbling match, "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Half a day." Castiel said, following Dean a step behind, hovering at his shoulder, "Jess picked up the other half of my shift."

Dean groaned and was about to make a smartass comment about the bookstore hiring Jess when he saw the tell-tale signs of a fight about to break out. He muttered a quick excuse to Cas and darted across the gym to step between the two parties, tail slashing down between them and making them leap apart.

He crouched down and frowned fiercely at both of them. Both sides started shouting that the other side started it and Dean cut them off with a gruff order, got a story from each tiny pack, and then told them off for being selfish and went to get more basketballs so that they could _share_. When he made his way back to Castiel, tail swinging over the heads of the kids, he found that the angel was wearing that same stupid smile on his face again. Dean didn't tell him to get rid of it. Instead, as he leaned against the wall beside the angel to watch the children, he pictured Cas in an apron sashaying around the stove and cooking pancakes in the early morning sunlight, his black wings catching in the sunbeams and glowing like something from Heaven itself.

His tail twitched around his leg, curling at his ankle.

"Come home with me tonight." He blurted and Cas looked around at him sharply.

"What?"

"Come home with me tonight, spend the night."

"I thought we weren't—."

"We're not." Dean replied, turning to look at Castiel with a small smile, "But I like the idea of you in an apron."

Castiel tilted his head in confusion and Dean laughed.

* * *

Cas agreed to stay the night with Dean but admitted that he would feel awkward waiting at the elementary school for him. So after a quick peck on the cheek (outside the gym, of course), Castiel leapt off into the windy September sky.

The wind buffeted him South as he flapped hard to get above the buildings, heading East, following the roads. The rules for flying in the city were much like driving; you followed the roads, flew on the right side, and singled your turns. Cas followed the street from the school and then turned into the downtown area. The speed of his flight yanked at his trench coat and pushed his goggles into the bridge of his nose. He checked behind him for fellow fliers and then beat his wings back so that he slowed to halt, hovering in the air above the sidewalk. Most fliers preferred to drive in the cold so the sky was relatively clear and, because of the weather, the sidewalk was too.

Castiel lowered himself slowly to the street below, ruffled his wings, folded them up, and pushed open the door to _Sweet Delights_. The warmth inside prickled against the cold tinge on his cheeks as he loosened his scarf from around the lower half of his face and dropped his goggles around his neck. There was a pair of silver-gray wings peaking over the countertop, twitching slightly and Cas smirked.

He had a plan. Dean had always brought him treats and trinkets as part of the courting ritual but had never said anything about Castiel doing the same. Cas intended to rectify that.

"Gabriel." He said flatly as he approached the counter.

Castiel's older brother shot up from underneath the counter like someone had snapped a coiled spring. He wings arched over his head in alarm before he pulled them back in and there was the somewhat guilty expression on his face that said he was doing something he probably shouldn't have been doing. The candy wrapper poking from between the clenched fingers in his fist attested to it.

"Caaasss!" Gabriel said brightly, shoving the candy deep into a pocket and leaping over the counter to give his little brother a hug, "What brings you here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Half day," Castiel said with a slight smile, "Gabriel, I need a pie."

The older angel quirked an eyebrow, sauntering back to the counter as he did so, "A pie? What kind of pie? And what for? I give you all the leftovers, aren't those enough?"

"I have told you how I feel about the leftovers," Castiel responded, "The pie is for Dean; I am staying at his apartment tonight." Gabriel's expression hardened and his jaw tightened. Cas narrowed his eyes at his brother, "Do you have a problem with Dean?"

"No, I don't have a problem with your little demon boyfriend." Gabriel muttered, picking at the brochures on the counter. He flicked his gaze from the countertop to Cas, "I just worry about you, bro. And you know I've got legit reasons to worry."

"I know," Castiel said, reaching out to put a hand over Gabriel's restless fingers, "And you know that I worry about you as well. But Dean is a good person, he would do nothing to hurt me." Gabriel just stared at Cas and the younger angel sighed, "He works at an elementary school, Gabe, how much more proof do you need?"

Gabriel snorted, fluffing his wings, and drummed his fingertips on the counter before asking, "What kind of pie?"

Cas smiled a little, "Apple."

Gabriel ducked into the back to retrieve the pie and left Castiel standing at the counter. The black-winged angel waited quietly for a moment and then had another thought. He picked up one of the brochures, a pen sitting by the register, and started writing in the free space on the back. He finished just as his older brother ducked out of the kitchen carrying a white box tied with dark red string. Cas stuffed the scribbled on brochure into his coat and took out his wallet to pay. Gabriel said nothing during the transaction but when Castiel picked up the box of pie to leave, he said,

"Hey Cas."

Castiel turned back to his brother, expecting some sort of teasing remark, but saw that Gabriel's expression was a serious one, "Yes Gabriel?"

"If anything happens, come talk to me. Don't do that stupid thing you do where you pretend it never happened, all right? Come see me."

"Of course."

"And Castiel…"

"Yes?"

A trademark grin appeared on Gabriel's face, one that spoke of mischief and mayhem, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do~!"

Castiel scowled at him and swept back out into the cold, Gabriel's laughter following him into the sky.

* * *

Flying with a pie under one arm was difficult.

Flying with a pie under one arm and two plastic bags of groceries was even harder.

But Castiel managed, he had done much more difficult things in his lifetime. He thought about flying directly to Dean's apartment building but he didn't have a key and the idea of waiting out in the cold didn't appeal to him at all. So he dropped back at the school with the pie in one arm and the groceries in the other and wandered through the front doors towards the gym.

It was quiet and at first Cas thought that maybe Dean had left but the doors to the gymnasium were open and he saw the demon trot across the floor with an armful of tiny basketballs. He seemed intent on filling a plastic can with them and didn't notice Cas until the angel was standing beside the can, watching him with twitching wings. A smile broke out over Dean's face as he dumped into another armful of balls,

"Hey Cas, whatcha' got there?"

"Food." Castiel answered honestly, "I am going to make you dinner. May I put these in your car until you are ready to go?"

Dean stared at him, mouth slightly open. Then he blinked himself back down to earth, tail snapping back and forth in the air and Cas had to wonder what in the world _that_ meant. But Dean was stuttering out a 'sure, yeah, go ahead' and handed him the keys to the Impala. Castiel took them carefully, with reverence, because, yes, he had been paying attention (it was Dean Winchester, how could he not?) and knew that the car meant a lot to Dean. He made short work of storing the groceries and pie in the back seat and hurried back into the school, shivering slightly. The wind was picking up, biting into every hole in his clothing it could find. Cas wasn't surprised really; it was late September, almost pushing October, the weather was bound to be getting colder. It was just that he was a creature of warmer climates and tended to hide under many, many blankets when the weather dropped towards the cooler side of the thermometer.

Back inside, he helped Dean clean up the gym, despite the demon's protests, scooping up the remaining basketballs and placing then in the can. As Dean hauled the plastic container back into the storage closet, Castiel arched his back and spread his wings out wide, letting the hot gym lights beat down on his feathers and warm the chill from them. He stretched his dark wings out as far as they would go, feeling the muscles pull and strain between his shoulder blades, and relished the sensation. The angel cracked his neck, let his back pop, and then sighed, relaxing and half folding his wings in.

When he looked up he saw Dean watching him from the storage closet doorway. There was a strange expression on the demon's face, something like painful nostalgia, but when he noticed Castiel looking, he forced a smile,

"Ready to go?"

"If you are."

"Sure. Just let me drop the storage key off at the office."

Castiel trailed after Dean, following him quietly to the office because standing at the gym doors seemed like an awkward thing to do. Both secretaries looked up and smiled when they saw Dean push the door open and Castiel hung back in the doorway, uncertain about treading into this unknown territory.

"Whose your friend, Dean?" Asked one of the women, tapping her pen on her keyboard.

Dean looked around to see Cas standing in the doorway and beckoned him forward, "Ladies, this is Castiel. Cas, these two exquisite pieces of beauty are Pamela and Tamara."

"You're horrible." Said Tamara in a teasing manner.

Pamela gave Castiel an appraising look, "Mm, he's cute but not quite the looker your brother is."

Dean groaned and made a big show of rolling his eyes as he dropped the keys on the countertop and grabbed Cas' hand, "Come on, let's get out of here before Principle Singer shows up to embarrass me some more."

"It was nice to meet you." Cas called as Dean dragged him toward the front doors.

"Play nice, boys!" Pamela shouted as the pair ducked out into the cold.

There was a bit of quiet before Castiel asked in a puff of breath, "Did you date either of them?" He passed Dean the keys to the Impala as they approached the car.

"Nah," Dean hunched his shoulders against the cold as he fumbled with the lock, "Tamara's married and the night I spent with Pamela was…I mean, she's brilliant but kind of scary." The pair scrambled into the car and Dean cranked up the heat as he started it up, "What about you? Any vengeful ex's I should be aware of?"

Cas fidgeted in his seat, partially because he was getting his wings settled and partially because the question made him a little uncomfortable. Dean didn't notice his partner's distress, to busy watching for traffic as he pulled out of the school parking lot, tapping his fingers along with CCR's "Bad Moon Rising". Cas found the song slightly disconcerting.

But he answered Dean's question, "I did not have a chance in my…previous employment to date. I had one or two partners for a few, very brief and meaningless nights. But nothing long term, "He thought about it for a moment, "Both Azazel and Uriel were passive sort of people. Alastair was…less so but you need not worry about him."

"Azazel's a demon name," Dean commented as he steered his Impala towards home, "I mean, it's a really old school one but I recognize it." He flashed a smirk at the angel beside him, "So you've been with a demon before, eh?"

"He had no horns or tail." Castiel said flatly, staring resolutely out the front window.

"What!" Dean whipped around to stare at him, jerking the steering wheel so the Impala drifted a little.

"Eyes on the road."

Dean sucked in a stuttering breath and looked forward again, straightening the car out, "What do you mea—."

"I do not wish to talk about it."

There must have been something in his voice because Dean backed off, settling against his seat. His tail flicked against the door, tapping out of beat with Angel Witch on the radio. An awkward silence descended between them and neither looked at the other. There was something bitter about the silence, the same sour tang that had stained the moment they'd had on Dean's couch. Castiel did not move an inch, sitting stiff as a board in the passenger seat. After a long couple of minutes filled only with classic rock, Dean finally asked,

"So, uh, what's for dinner?"


	12. Chapter 12

_I keep picturing Dean's apartment looking like the one that Leonard and Sheldon share in "The Big Bang Theory"…_

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Castiel insisted that Dean take a shower while he prepared dinner. Dean had jokingly asked if he stank that bad. Castiel had said yes. At first Dean had been offended but then he'd noticed the glimmer of amusement in Cas' eye.

So while the angel petered around in his kitchen, Dean started up his shower. The hot water felt good after the chill of the September air outside and Dean let the water pelt at his back, pulling his shoulders forward so that the hot liquid could cascade over the bumps and dips in his skin. The spray was sometimes like a thousand stinging pellets and it kept Dean's head clear.

Nothing was going to happen tonight.

After stepping out of his shower and adequately drying his hair and dressing in a clean pair of pajama bottoms and a soft old T-shirt, the demon stepped out of the bathroom, still plucking absently at his horns, his tail swishing back and forth. Castiel was still hovering around the kitchen, darting between the stove and the countertop, his wings fluttering occasionally at his back. Dean was a little disappointed to see that he wasn't wearing an apron. He sidled into the kitchen and was about to push his fingers into Cas' feathers when the angel spun and darted around him,

"Get out of the kitchen, Dean. You're in the way. Go sit on the couch until it's ready."

Dean pouted the entire time he was on the couch but his green eyes followed Castiel's every movement.

And the dinner was well worth the wait.

Dean had always thought that women were wizards in the kitchen, the true artists of food and fine eating.

But Castiel was a veritable _god_ when it came to cooking food.

Dean ate three helpings the casserole the angel had made and then eaten two slices of pie. Needless to say, he was stuffed by the time dinner was over. Castiel started to put things away and Dean huffed and told him to drop tin foil over the casserole and leave the dishes in the sink, they could be dealt with later. Castiel hesitated but then did as Dean said before returning to the couch beside Dean.

The demon idly switched the television on, surfed around, found nothing really good, and left it playing on a station that aired B movies all day long. Then he stretched out against the back and arm of the couch, threw his arm around Castiel's shoulders, and pulled the angel close. Cas' eyes widened in surprise at the intimate contact but he didn't fight it. He pushed himself against Dean's side, resting his head on the demon's shoulder, and relaxed his wings so that blue-black feathers cascaded over the couch. Dean wove his fingers into Cas' wings but did not tug or stroke, just left them there in a sort of reassuring manner. Cas reached over and gently pulled Dean's tail into his lap. It coiled loosely around his wrist and Castiel stroked it a couple of times before simply sitting there, nestled against Dean.

The two of them sat there through the entire B-movie, chuckling at the writing and making rude comments about the acting, occasionally just sharing conversation. Dean found out that while Castiel's sweet tooth was not as sweet as Gabriel's, he did have quite the pension for chocolate covered raisins. Cas, in turn, found out that the Impala had once belonged to John Winchester and that he had passed it onto Dean as a graduation present.

Cas liked fruit salads. Dean liked a lot of pepper on his eggs and his bacon extra crispy. Cas liked to cook but hardly got the chance and the reason he didn't work with Gabriel was because he didn't think he could stand being around him that long. Dean wanted to one day get a proper house. Cas wanted to fly in a marathon someday. Dean kissed him on the mouth. Castiel returned it. Dean told him very firmly that they were not cuddling. Cas laughed said it could be whatever he wanted.

The movie ended rather bitterly with the protagonist being sacrificed to the devil by the woman he thought he was in love with but who was really a member of an evil witch cult or something. But it was a B-movie and the acting had been terrible and the effects had been worse so, really, the pair just made it into a comedy.

As the credits rolled across the screen, Dean cracked his neck and arched his back until both popped. Cas sat up, no longer leaning on the demon but still flush against him. There was another awkward pause between them because each knew what time it was and neither knew how to go about it.

But Dean, as unsubtle as a battering ram, broke it first.

"You can have the second bedroom," He said, switching off the television and clambering to his feet. His tail was still wound around Cas' wrist but he didn't seem to notice, "It used to be Sam's bu—hah—ah!" Dean turned sharply when someone pulled gently on his tail. Castiel was smirking at him.

"Sorry," The angel said, fingers still holding the tail which flicked its spade against his wrist, "I couldn't help myself."

"And I told you not to pull it." Dean growled playfully, lowering himself back onto the couch so he was straddling the angel, "I should get you back for that." He whispered, nose brushing against Castiel's, hands deep in the angel's feathers where he was pressed against the back of the couch.

"You really should." Cas agreed, sounding a little choked. He titled his head up, lips brushing Dean's chin, trying to found the demon's mouth. Dean obliged him and then shuddered against the angel when one of Castiel's hands came up to start massaging his horn. His tail arched between them, brushing against the inside of Cas' thigh, skimming through his slacks.

Cas moaned softly into Dean's mouth and the demon chuckled. Dark wings curled around them both and Dean's fingers worked into those feathers, smoothing them, tugging on the, trying to find all the little places that made Castiel whine and whimper and writhe. One hand still massaging Dean's horn, Cas brought his other hand up and slid it along Dean's ass until he found that gap in his jeans again. Dean hissed pleasurably at him. Cas' fingers fumbled up towards his shirt.

Dean balked and pulled back sharply. He didn't get very far because he was still straddling Cas and the angel's wings were in the way but it was enough to break off any intimate contact.

"Sorry," The demon breathed, looking a little panicked, "I said we wouldn't and then—sorry, sorry…"

"It's all right, Dean," Cas said, withdrawing his wings, "I knew better and I instigated it. I apologize for my behavior."

"Right, yeah…" Dean mumbled, climbing off of his partner and rubbing the back of his neck. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and then looked down the hall towards the bedrooms, "We should probably get to sleep. Work and stuff in the morning, you know?"

"Yes." Castiel said flatly and for some reason that empty tone sent a pang through Dean right down to his stomach. It felt like a resigned dismissal, if that made any sense. Like something had ended, was over, and for a second Dean remembered that crushing sensation when Cassie had dumped him.

"Sorry." He said again, "Cas, I really am. Maybe this was a bad idea and I shouldn't have asked you to—."

"Dean," Castiel was suddenly on his feet invading Dean's personal space, their breath tangling with each exhale, "I would not have come if I did not want to. I don't need sex to know that I am attracted to you."

Dean flushed pink with the words but couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. He felt a little giddy, like he was gong down that first giant hill on a rollercoaster. But he managed to stammer out, "S-Sammy's old bedroom, um, you can sleep there if you'd like. Uh, do you—you need pajamas?"

"I'm fine, Dean." Castiel ran a hand over the demon's arm, "I sleep in my undershirt and boxers."

He _really_ shouldn't have said that.

Dean fumbled and led Castiel to the second bedroom, showed him where the bathroom was, and told him that if he needed anything he could wake Dean at any hour. Castiel stole a goodnight kiss and then disappeared in the blank walled bedroom. Dean stared at the closed door for a while and then ducked into his own room to squirm out of his day clothes. He lay quietly in bed for a while, just rolling his shoulders around, feeling the tight tug of skin at his back. He wanted to be with Cas, wanted to hold him, touch him, love him.

But people didn't always like what they saw when it came to Dean. More than once a potential one night dance had been driven away, leaving Dean to hate himself in the dark. He'd had looks of disgust, horror, and ever mockery on occasion. The worst was pity. Dean pushed those ones away himself. He didn't want their pity, didn't need it.

He'd only had a handful of these instances where he'd been left with a cold bed and no gratification. But each one had stung and each time it had happened, Dean had shoved another brick into his concrete wall.

Hard pressed would be the person to take that wall down.

* * *

Dean woke up to the sound of Florence and the Machine coming through the walls and frowned because he didn't have a Florence and the Machine record. He rolled out of bed, kicking the covers off and pulling a sweater on over his bed shirt. He hitched up his flannel pajama bottoms and shuffled sleepily out of his room.

The second bedroom door was open and the bed was perfectly made as though no one had been in it at all. Dean sniffed and moved into the living room. There where two sweaters and a dress shirt folded on the arm of the chair beside the couch and Castiel was moving about the kitchen, humming along with the song playing from Dean's stereo system. The demon went to investigate and found an old mp3 player jacked in. It was obviously Castiel's because Dean didn't own one.

"Sorry about that," Cas said and Dean turned around to find him standing halfway out of the kitchen with a spatula in his hands. He was wearing his pair of rumpled slacks and a T-shirt that was clinging to his skinny chest, "I just wake up faster to my music in the morning."

"Florence and the Machine?" Dean asked, words slurring a bit with the sleep still sticking to his tongue.

"Mm," Castiel nodded, stepping backwards into the kitchen. Dean trailed after him, rubbing the rest of the grit from his eyes, "I have always found it something good to wake up to."

"_Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart, drag my teeth across your chest and taste your beating heart…"_

"Guess so." Dean grunted, leaning against the kitchen counter so he could watch Cas poke at the eggs sizzling in the pan, "Hey, you're not gonna wear yesterdays clothes to work are you?"

Cas didn't look up from the stove, "I did not bring another set of clothes to wear."

Dean snorted, pushed himself off the counter, and went back into his bedroom. He shuffled through the drawers for a bit, gathered what he needed in his arms, and returned to the living room,

"You can wear some of my stuff," The demon dumped it onto the coffee table, "It might be a little big on you but it should be okay. And don't tell me you can't wear jeans at the bookstore," He interrupted when Castiel opened his mouth to protest, "I've seen Chuck, he dresses like a slob. There's no holes in these jeans, promise."

Castiel shook his head and turned back to where breakfast was cooking on the stove, "You're too good to me, Dean."

"And you're spoiling me by making me breakfast," Dean threw back, tail waving back and forth, "Just wait until the courting's over. You'll miss all the presents and shit."

Cas looked over his shoulder, flapping his wings once or twice. There was a sly smile on his face, "The presents were nice, Dean. But it's your attention that I want more of."

Dean grinned like an idiot and his tail coiled around his leg.

"_The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloody feet I cross the hollowed ground…"_


	13. Chapter 13

_Sorry this chapter is a shoddy mess. I might post another one tonight to make up for the shoddiness.  
_

_Also I'm not even sorry about the movie reference I make in this chapter. Not a bit._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

"_Come to the movies with me and Jess."_

"What?" Dean frowned into his the stir-fry he was cooking up on the stove, his cell phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder.

"_Jess and I are going to see a movie on Saturday."_ Said Sam from the other end of the phone, _"We're inviting you to come along. And bring Castiel."_

"You want to go on a double date?" Dean snorted, shoving his food around the pan so that it sizzled and spat.

"_Oh, grow up, Dean,"_ The younger Winchester snipped, _"You and Cas only hang out at the bookstore or The Roadhouse or your apartment. You need to go on an actual_ date_."_

Dean grumbled into the phone and pulled the pan off the stove, dumping his food onto a plate that was already loaded with rice, "Fine, fine, I'll check with Cas after work. See if he wants to get dragged along for this stupid thing."

"_Don't call it stupid."_ There was a pause on the other end of the phone and Dean used the opportunity to switch ears. His shoulder had been starting to ache, _"How are you guys doing anyway? I mean, have you—?"_

"No."

"_Has he—?"_

"No."

"_Are you going—?"_

"Sam, I really don't want to talk about it." Dean nearly threw the pan into the sink where it hissed against the water droplets, smoking slightly, "Just drop it, okay. I'll tell him when I'm ready, stop rushing me. It's none of your business."

"_It _is_ my business, Dean. You never think, do you? Seriously, how much better is it going to be by waiting to tell him? Do you think it's going to lessen the blow or something?"_

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Dean growled and this time smoke curled from between his lips.

There was a heavy silence during which Dean glared at his food and static crackled briefly down the line.

Then Sam said, _"Sorry. I just…I know you don't think it, but I worry about you."_

"You've got nothing to worry about, Sammy. I'm cool. You just keep planning that gayass wedding of yours."

"_Sorry? Who has a gay ass? And stop trying to change the subject."_

Dean lashed his tail against the counter in a brief display of aggression, scooped up his plate, and headed into the sitting room to sit on the couch, "Did you decide on a cake yet?"

"_Dean—."_

"Because I really liked that peanut butter-chocolate one. It taste really good with mint and vanilla frosting."

A sigh fuzzed the audio for a moment, _"Fine. Whatever. I'll see you Saturday, then."_

"If you say so." Dean said through a mouthful of stir-fry and rice, "See you around, little brother." And he snapped the phone shut, tossing it onto the coffee table with a dismissive huff.

Who was Sam to butt into his business? Who was Sam to try and tell him how to run his love life? Who was Sam to try and get him to spill his secrets? It infuriated Dean, made his throat hot and his stomach knot because, damn it, this was _his choice_. Sam wasn't the one with the problem, Sam wasn't the one carrying the black spot around with him everywhere, Sam wasn't the older brother with small horns and no wings. Dean shoved his food away. He suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, he felt sick.

After the things that had been going on between him and Castiel—the near misses on the couch, the half-truths, the trepidation of every touch—his conversation with Sam was unearthing feelings Dean didn't know he still had. He thought he'd let it go a long time ago but apparently some things clung rather stubbornly. Sam said it was because he had a "wall", whatever the hell that meant. A wall, Sam had said, that he—Dean—had put up to keep everyone else from seeing how he felt, to keep people from touching his "core" or whatever. Dean had punched him to get him to shut up. That had been before Sam had met Jess and moved out of the apartment.

Dean did not want to talk about the subject. He did not want to talk about, he did not want to think about it, he did not want to dwell on it at all.

Because he felt that, somehow, if he pretended it didn't exist then it would be as if it had never happened at all.

* * *

The last Saturday of September was surprisingly warm, with only a crisp breeze and the multi-colored leaves to suggest the simmering fall season still sitting contentedly across the country.

"You know you didn't have to come." Said Dean drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited for the traffic light to change.

"I wanted to. It is not an obligation." Castiel replied, his chin in his hand and his elbow on the car door.

"Stop being a turd, Dean," Sam said from the back seat, "You're making it sound like we're dragging him to some sort of boring seminar."

"For all I know it could be one of your stupid, artsy fartsy foreign films." Dean snorted.

"We haven't decided on a film yet." Jess cut in, the mediator, "But we narrowed it down to two."

"What ones?" Castiel asked. When Jess had told him the names, he fluffed his wings and said, "I am not really a fan of explosive action movies. I can only take them in small doses. Is it all right if we see the animated film instead? Is that all right with you, Dean?"

"Whatever you want, baby," Dean teased, flicking his tail against Castiel's leg. When Cas looked at him doubtfully, he rolled his eyes and added, "Dude, really, it's fine. I don't care either way. 'Sides, Dr. Seuss is a badass."

"That's not what you said about _Horton Hears a Who_…" Sam muttered from the backseat as Dean turned into the cinema parking lot.

"I don't like elephants." The older Winchester explained with his nose in the air as he stepped out of the car but no one was really sure if he was joking or not. The group headed into the theatre, chatting and bantering, Dean holding Cas' hand and Sam with his arm around Jess' shoulders.

As it happened, the tickets for the animated Dr. Seuss film were sold out the only other movie playing anytime soon was a romantic comedy. Everyone looked skeptically at everyone else.

"Better than nothing." Jess pointed out, "And we did come all the way here to see a movie."

"It was a thirty minute drive." Dean muttered and then grunted when Cas stepped on his foot.

"We'll take the tickets." The angel told the clerk at the counter.

* * *

None of them liked the movie all that much. The writing was terrible, the jokes fell flat, the ending was predictable, and the actors overdid everything. But the two couples made up for it by giggling and making fun of it the entire time. Dean tried to start a popcorn fight with Sam halfway through but the younger Winchester would have none of it and curled his wing around, shielding himself—and consequently Jess—from Dean's sight.

"Hey," Dean had whispered loudly, poking at the membrane of his brother's wing, "You two had better not be making out behind there. I'll call security on you!"

To which Castiel had grabbed the collar of Dean's jacket with one hand and dragged him over the arm rest of the seat to smash their lips together. Dean had tried to coil his tail into the angel's wings but Sam had trapped it in his own tail with a simple twist.

"Now children," Sam chided softly, a mischievous smirk on his face, "That's called public indecency."

"I thought that was your face." Dean had said in reply.

"Boys, please shut up and help me make fun of this horrible protagonist." Jess had interrupted and they'd all gone back to making jokes about the movie again.

When they left the theatre, the wind had picked up, tearing more leaves from the trees and sending them skittering across the parking lot like half-hearted handfuls of confetti. Sam and Jess were talking quietly with one another, sometimes giggling, as they followed behind Dean and Cas. The demon and the angel were holding hands, fingers woven together, wings and tail occasionally brushing as they walked.

"That was enjoyable." Castiel said, using his free hand to tighten his scarf around his neck. Dean pressed closer to him, trying to share the unnatural body heat he produced. Cas smiled at him, "We should do this again sometime."

"How about we make sure it's just the two of us when we do?" Dean replied, shoving his nose into Castiel's neck. The angel jerked and his wings flared, catching the wind and spreading the feather wide.

"Awwww," Sam cooed as they approached the Impala, "They'd make a good romantic comedy, wouldn't they Jess?"

Dean punched him in the arm.


	14. Chapter 14

_Sorry that last chapter was so short, it just seemed like a good place to stop. And besides, a lot goes down in this chapter. _

_Also, a gold star and an extra life if you catch the reference to a certain book starring an angel and a demon. Here's a hint: ducks._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Though the date at the movie theater was not what either Dean or Castiel expected, it had broadened their minds a bit. They started going out more often, to places other than the Roadhouse or Dean's apartment. Sometimes Castiel would take afternoons off from work, letting Jess or another coworker pick up his shift, and meet Dean after the elementary school had gotten out.

Usually they went out to dinner around town but sometimes they would grab some takeout and go to different places with their spoils. Castiel made Dean feed the ducks in the pond with him in the park, though there were few of them left this late in the fall. Dean griped about it the entire time, throwing unnecessarily large chunks of bread at the birds in the water, but his tail was swaying back and forth and Cas had figured out that that probably meant the demon was quite content.

Dean took Cas to a laser tag game. Needless to say it was eventful. Dean saw a side of Castiel that—in all honesty—turned him on like nobody's business. The angel was a whirlwind of black feathers and speed once he'd gotten the hang of the game. They didn't win but the other team had come up to speak to Castiel personally, commenting on his skills, and Dean had taken pity on his boyfriend when the angel appeared to be overwhelmed.

Cas even tagged along with Dean when the demon went to get sized for his tuxedo. He was, of course, Sam's best man, being the older brother and all. But that didn't mean he had to like getting fitted. Dean stood on the pedestal as the shop owner and the assistant flitted around him with measuring tapes and pieces of fabric. Castiel, meanwhile, lounged in a chair nearby, his nose in a book. But every so often he would look at Dean with a twinkle in his blue eyes that said he was quietly laughing at his partner's misfortune.

"You're taking me out for dinner after this." Dean said, trying to keep his tail still as the seamstress measured out bits of fabric for his pants. He failed rather spectacularly, said appendage twisting around and waving back and forth through the air, "Sorry," He muttered to the woman.

Castiel smiled, "How about we go to the Roadhouse?"

"That's not even close to making up for it."

"I'll buy you potato wedges."

"You'd eat half of them anyway."

"And one of Jo's bacon burgers."

Dean smirked over the shoulder of the store owner, "You're getting there, Cas, you're getting there."

Castiel flared his wings out, brushing the tips against the floor and Dean's tail curled around his leg, trapping the unfortunate seamstress' measuring tape.

* * *

The Roadhouse was packed but that was to be expected on a Friday evening. The temperature inside was at least thirty degrees warmer than the chill outside and some people were even stripped down to T-shirts. The bar was packed with a rag-tag mixture of office workers in wrinkled dress shirts with loosened ties and jackets thrown over the backs of their chairs, the burly hard labor folk in stained jeans and cracked boots, and the lone wolves hunching over their drinks with dark eyes and silent melancholy. Scattered around the rest of the tables were the other patrons; the party-goers, loud and laughing, stacking on the drinks and falling over one another, the business meeting who had realized too late that this was the wrong place and time to sit in a booth and try to discuss budget cuts, and the young ones in the shadowy corners with drinks half empty, testing their limits, quietly trying to see who would get drunk first.

The voices of the people mingled with the AC/DC raining out of the jukebox, the air smelled like cedar and old wood layered over with the stench of too many people wearing too many perfumes or none at all, the acrid taste of cigarette smoke, and alcohol. A thin haze of smoke hovered over the lights on the ceiling and in some spots the floor was sticky where beer had been spilled and had been left to sink into the wooden boards.

Dean and Cas wove their way through the throng of people, holding tightly to one another's hands, and tried to find a place to sit. The bar was packed full but there was a table nearby that the two quickly snatched up. Dean hooked his foot around Castiel's leg under the table while his tail thumped against the floor. Cas fought very hard to keep his wings under control.

"Deeeaannn!" Came a happy cry and suddenly a thin man with a mullet, steely silver eyes, and rows of tiny sharp teeth appeared at their table, "Hey Dean, how've you been? Hello Castiel!"

"Hey Ash," Dean grinned at the Fae Gremlin, "You look pretty busy tonight."

"Pff, you think?" Ash snorted, "So, what'll you be having this fine evening?" And he drummed pointy silver fingernails on his notepad.

"Two beers, a basket of potato wedges, and a bacon burger." Castiel said with the slightest of smiles, "And don't push yourself, Ash, we can wait for our food."

"No we can't!" Dean shouted after Ash's retreating back, "Great, now it's going to take hours."

"Do you want to get away from me that quickly?" Castiel teased, leaning across the table to capture Dean's hands in his own.

"Get away from you?" Dean's eyebrows rose, a teasing tone filtering into his voice. His tail decided its place was around Castiel's leg and promptly tightened around the angel's appendage, "How can I get away from you when you're all I can think about?"

Cas snorted, "Those cheesy pick-up lines might work on the more gullible of the opposite gender but they do not work on me, Dean Winchester."

"Oh, they work all right, I just haven't found the right line yet."

"Is that so? Are you proposing that we sit here all night and—."

"Hey faggots, get a room!" Someone roared from the bar. This was followed by a mixture of laughter and snapping replies for the idiot to lay off.

Dean growled in his throat and Castiel squeezed his hands. The demon returned his attention to the angel, looking distressed. Cas simply shook his head, wordlessly explaining that it was something he had heard before and it was nothing that could bother him. Dean huffed, pulled one of Cas' hands to his lips and gently kissed every one of the angel's knuckles. Cas' feathers puffed up and Dean grinned. He'd successfully turned his angel on.

The moment was promptly ruined by Ash appearing out of nowhere, setting their beers down, and whisking away again to attend to his other patrons. Dean raised his bottle to his lips but paused when he saw Castiel holding out his own bottle with an expectant look on his face.

"Oh, dude, you are not going to do something corny like toast to us are you?"

"No. I was going to toast to Sam."

"To _Sam_? Why to _Sam_?"

"Because if he had never dragged you along to pick up books with him," Cas said smoothly, pushing his legs way into Dean's personal space, "Then I would never have seen you and we would not be sitting here together right now."

Dean's tail twisted around both of their legs, tangling them together. Cas' smile widened. They clinked their beers together and took a drink. Then Dean leaned forward and kissed the corner of Castiel's mouth, lips brushing the stubble on the angel's jaw. Cas tilted his head, trying to capture Dean's mouth, begging for more, but Dean gently pulled back, just far enough so that he could look into Cas' stupidly blue eyes.

"That's disgusting."

Both men snapped around to see a couple of demons lounging against the bar, watching them with wrinkled noses and narrowed eyes. They looked like working class; all scuffed boots and holey jeans. Dean glared at them, his lip curling, but before he could say anything, Castiel interjected.

"If you have a problem with us, then kindly turn away. I was under the impression it was rude to watch a demon and his partner be intimate with one another." His tone was ice and his look was even colder. His black wings seemed to swell, the feather puffing up in aggravation.

One of the demons at the bar scoffed, his absurdly thick tail banging noisily against the bar, "That's not a courtship, that's a fucking freak show."

"Seriously," Sneered another, "Gay and _cross species dating_. Fuck."

"Maybe they have." Said a third and all five of them roared with laughter. They were obviously intoxicated and weren't thinking straight.

Dean shot to his feet before Cas could stop him, his tail arching up behind his back with the spade flared dangerously wide, "Hey assholes," He growled, "Why don't you mind your own goddamn business?"

The demons abruptly stopped laughing and shared a glance between one another. Then they shuffled forward, all of them leering at Dean who didn't back down an inch. Cas rose slowly to his feet, looking wary, his wings quivering at his back, his eyes ice cold fire as he glared at the aggressors.

"Watch your mouth, shrimp," Spat the demon at the front, twisting his head so that his massive horns—far bigger than Dean's—caught the low lighting, "Or I'll tear it off."

"Then piss off." Dean hissed and smoke uncurled from his lips, startling Castiel who had never seen the phenomena before, "We're not bothering anybody."

"You're bothering me," The demon growled, "Demons mating outside of demon circles…puh, what's this world coming to. It's disgusting. And with an _angel_ of all things." His lip curled, baring his teeth, "You're a disgrace to demon kin."

"Black wings too," Said one of the other demons, his horns just as big, "Unlucky. He's probably cursed."

"Maybe he's an outcast." Said a third, "Maybe they're _both_ outcasts."

Dean snapped.

With a roar of fury, he launched himself at the biggest demon. He slammed into the other demon and they both went down. The other demons piled on, howling and jeering. Fists swung, tails jabbed, and a pair of leathery bat-like wings battered anyone who got too close. Castiel's own wings snapped out wide, knocking over tables and chairs. There was unguarded rage on his features and he flicked his wrist at his side. With a clink and hum of power, a silver sword dropped from his shirt sleeve and nestled easily in his hand. He made to step into the fight when a gun shot rang out.

At first, Cas panicked because he thought perhaps one of the demons had pulled a gun and shot Dean. But then he saw a woman standing by the kitchen door, a shotgun in her hands, and a furious expression on her face. Everyone else in the Roadhouse had frozen. The only other noise was the jukebox, which had moved onto "Look What You've Done" by Jet.

There was something horribly ironic about that.

"What the hell is goin' on out here!" Snapped Ellen Harville as she strode forward, shotgun still ready at her side. She caught sight of Castiel with his wings wide open and a sword in his hand. Then her hard gaze traveled to the knot of demons and her expression hardened.

"Get off the floor!" She snapped, gesturing at them with the barrel of the gun. They all scrambled to obey, one or two of them limping or clutching at injuries, and revealed a very battered Dean Winchester sprawled on the hardwood.

Castiel forgot his anger instantly. The sword in his hand vanished with a slight whoosh of displaced air as he leapt to his partner's side. Dean pushed himself up with a groan, one eye already swelling shut and his split lip bleeding. Castiel looked sharply over his shoulder and sent the coldest, deadliest glare he had at the pack of demons. They shifted nervously.

"Now I don't quite know what happened here and I don't give a flying fuck who started it," Ellen snapped, jabbing the end of the shotgun at each of the demons for emphasis, "But there will be none of that name-calling, bar-brawling, idiocy in my restaurant, is that clear? You leave couples—of _any_ type—well enough alone or so help me God this trigger might just twitch in your direction. Now it's clear that you five have had more than your share of drinks so kindly haul your tiny asses _out of my bar_. _Now_."

For an uncoordinated pack of drunkards, they moved quite fast.

Once the door had swung shut behind them, Ellen turned to Cas and Dean, lowering the gun and shaking her head, "Damn it, boy, when are you going to learn to pick your battles. Those guys had horns that were twice the size of yours."

"It's not the size of the horns, Ellen," Dean grunted as Cas helped him to his feet, "It's the demon behind them. Ahhgg, I think my spleen's exploded."

"No it has not," Cas said calmly, "Stop being a drama queen. Come on, we're going home."

"Awwww, but you still owe me bacon burger." Dean half whined as Castiel hauled him through the slowly rejuvenating crowds to the exit.

"At a later date." Cas promised and then they ducked out into the cold night air. Castiel pulled him to the side of the building that was out of the wind and sat him on a freezer box, "Hold still, I'm going to fix you."

"'M not broken." Dean muttered but held still anyway as Castiel gently probed his injuries.

The angel let his fingers trail gently over Dean's swollen eye, his split lip, the scrape on his chin, the shallow cuts in his arms and shoulders, and thought about how much he adored the demon in front of him. The thought made him feel warm and as if he could simply float away on a breeze.

"What're you smiling about?" Dean asked, wincing a little as Castiel massaged his bruised knuckles.

"I was thinking about how much I love you."

Dean seized up, his green eyes widening. Then he blinked, raised a hand, and prodded his face, "Hey…my bruises…and the cuts, they're gone!" He patted himself up and down and then looked back at Castiel, "Did you do that?"

"Yes," Castiel said, moving into Dean's personal space as much for the proximity as for the heat the demon gave off, "Angels have more than the power of flight, Dean. We can heal minor injuries, if we wish, and some of the more powerful ones can send people good dreams."

"They can read people's _minds_!" Dean blurted, curling his fingers into the base of Cas' wings.

Cas shivered, "Th-that's not what I said. If a person is asleep, their mind is open, but only a few angels have the ability to send people dreams. Gabriel used to do it for me when we were…when we were younger."

"Sounds kinda kinky."

"Dean!" Cas scolded as the demon hopped off the freezer box. A gust of wind found the gaps in his clothing and the angel shivered. A warm arm pulled him close and Dean pressed a hot kiss to his cheek.

"Is my baby angel cakes cold?"

"Do not call me 'baby angel cakes' or I will smite you where you stand."

"Can you do that?"

"I have a sword. A flaming sword."

"I know you do. I'd like to see it someday."

"Was that a sex joke, Dean?"

"It's whatever you want it to be, Cas."

The two clambered into the warmth of the Impala but Dean simply turned on the heating and didn't start the engine. They sat there together as the car warmed up, quietly holding hands, Dean's tail thumping quietly in the space between the seats. After a while, though, Dean got predictably antsy and started up the Impala, rumbling it out of the Roadhouse parking lot and down the road, heading for his apartment. Apparently he had decided that Cas was going to spend the night with him again. Castiel didn't mind.

"Dean," The angel said once they had been on the road for a while, "What did Ellen mean when she said that those demons had bigger horns than you? Why should that matter? And why were they so upset with you for courting me?"

Dean snorted and Cas thought he saw a trail of smoke come from his partner's nose, "So demons were raised pretty old school. They think that demons have to stay 'pure' or what the fuck ever, basically that demons shouldn't court anything other than other demons. There's not a lot of people who think like that anymore but the one's that do stick their noses up at the rest of us."

"And the horns?"

A sigh as Dean turned onto the street where his apartment building was, "It's another old thing that's somehow managed to survive the ages. I guess way back when, it was kinda primitive in demon clans and people thought that the bigger your horns were, the stronger you were. Demons whose horns were smaller like…like mine are," One hand involuntarily seemed to shoot up and rub at his horns before dropping back onto the steering wheel, "Were considered weaker. That's obviously not true now."

"Obviously," Castiel added with a smile, "Because it looked to me as if you did more damage to those five than they did to you."

Dean smirked, "You'd better believe it, baby."

"I have another question."

"Shoot."

"Wings; why do some demons have them and some don't? Do they hold any significance?"

Dean's jaw tightened slightly as he slowed to a halt at a traffic light, "Yeah, sort of. You know how I told you that demons don't really have a hierarchy? Well there _used_ to be one—based on the horns and wings thing. If you came from a family of wingers," There was a bitter edge in Dean's voice that Castiel didn't like, "You had more status. But if you had wings of your own, well, by god, you were fuckin' royalty. Old habits die hard and some demons still think that wingers are stronger. I've been called Sam's little brother more than once. Kinda stings, actually…"

"Dean," Castiel said carefully as the demon parked his Impala under the overhang. The two climbed out of the car and Dean turned around to look at Castiel over the roof, "Do you…do you have wing envy?"

Dean's face became horribly blank and all traces of light left his usually bright green eyes. It wasn't anger, it wasn't pain, there was simply _nothing_ and Castiel realized that there had probably been a line somewhere, maybe even a wall, that he had just tried to cross. The emptiness of Dean's face, that was usually so expressive and alive, was a dead thing, a weight that crushed Castiel and made the ground crack beneath his feet, threatening to shatter and send him tumbling into an abyss.

"Dean—."

"I just remembered I have errands I have to run tomorrow morning." Dean said abruptly, turning away from the angel, his voice just as empty as his eyes. His tail was stationary, settled into its usual S-curved shape, and Cas could read nothing from it, "So you'll just have to fly home."

"Dean, I—."

"I'm tired." The demon said in that same, horridly flat voice, and started walking away towards the apartment building,

"'Bye Cas."

The ground underneath Castiel's feet shattered and he fell into the darkness below. His wings were dead weights on his back and there was the sensation in his chest as though something very precious had been ripped away from him, right from between his ribs.

The night suddenly seemed far colder than it had any right to be.


	15. Chapter 15

_Sorry this update took so long. I'm actually employed now which means even less internet access. Also I'm dead. Just...just dead. Blaarrgg...  
_

_Though the response to that last chapter pleased me. Both because so many of you got the 'Good Omens' ref and because, well, hey, text walls. Love 'em. Here you go, folks, another chapter, thanks for your patience, it's appreciated. (yawns) Now I'm going back to bed._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

Dean would not answer his phone.

Cas felt sick.

He was grateful he didn't have to work on Saturday but it was a tiny relief compared to the black hole that was trying to eat up his insides. He didn't know what to do, didn't know exactly what he'd done to make Dean brush him off, to give him that cold shoulder and blank face, to leave him standing the parking lot with an abyss at his feet and a long, lonely flight home ahead of him.

He spent the majority of his Saturday curled up on his bed, cocooned in his wings. When Gabriel called, he simply said that he did not feel well and hung up.

When he woke up late on Sunday morning, he felt a bit better but not quite up to going into work. He called the bookstore and babbled something vague about not feeling well and managed to weasel his way into getting a day off. Then he simply sat on his couch for a while, staring at the television as it tried to tell him about specialty Italian pizzas and easy ways to clean up and decorate your house using only discount curtains and throw pillows.

But the TV was white noise and it pushed against his ears, leaving them ringing, and mouth-watering appearance of the vegan themed Italian pizza did nothing but make him feel emptier and hollow. Everything he looked at made him think about Dean which, in turn, made him remember that blank, expressionless look. It was seared into his mind's eye, burned there like something poisonous. It dragged up all the unwanted memories Castiel had tried so very hard to push away, to bury, to forget. He drew his knees up to his chest and pushed his face into his hands, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as if he could simply shove out the memories of

_acrid smoke and screaming so much screaming, loud voices calling, calling, calling, hands on him, hand in his, pulling him away_

_cold iron, rattling too much noise, scraping, blood, aching pain, people yelling, hands tugging on him_

_searing pain white hot steal the breath from your lungs kind of pain agony blinding—_

There was an explosion from the television and Castiel jumped. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his breath shallow and gasping, his heart racing so hard he thought it would thrust itself right out of his chest. On the screen, there were people running about in army uniforms. Cas wondered how a craft channel could change to a war movie until he saw that he'd shifted over and sat on the remote. He licked his lips and picked it up, turning it over in his hands while in his head, those unwanted memories played themselves out over and over again, accompanied by Dean's empty expression.

Castiel whimpered and shut his eyes, trying to lose himself in the darkness behind his eyelids.

"_If anything happens, come talk to me. Don't do that stupid thing you do where you pretend it never happened, all right? Come see me."_

Cas stumbled off the couch, snatched up his coat, his scarf, and his goggles, and ducked out the door. He left the television playing its war movie and his cell phone on the couch beside the remote.

* * *

Gabriel thought that maybe there was some sort of law of the universe that stated even though Saturdays were supposed be the start of the weekend and, therefore, when everyone relaxed, it was also the day when everyone did their shopping. Well, Saturday and Wednesday. Except for that one young woman who came in every morning to buy a doughnut for breakfast.

But the point was that Gabriel was really in no mood to be dealing with a bossy old woman who didn't understand that a roll was not the same as a cupcake on a Saturday afternoon. It was not his idea of how best to start his weekend. Not to mention that there was a candy bar with his name on it come lunch time…which was whenever this woman decided to finally place her order. He was in the process of showing a roll and a cupcake to the woman while simultaneously trying not to strangle her when the bell above the shop door jingled.

"I'll be with you in a minute," He called without looking away from his customer, "Now ma'am, this is our honey-baked roll with—."

"Gabriel."

The silver-winged angel snapped up and looked around the old woman to see Castiel standing just inside the door. He was still wearing his goggles and scarf but Gabriel didn't need to see his little brother's face to know that something was wrong. The slump of Cas' shoulders and the way his wings drooped towards the floor said enough. Gabriel shoved the roll and the cupcake back into the boxes and stuck his head into the kitchen,

"Hey Boss! Family emergency! Get Madison to cover for me, will you!" He turned back to the startled old lady, "Thanks, ma'am, it really wasn't a pleasure." And with that he whirled out from behind the counter, grabbed Castiel's arm, and dragged them both behind the curtain in a swirl of black and silver-gray feathers.

When the room wasn't being used for sampling, it was the break room for the employees; the long tables stacked against one wall and a smaller round table with a couple of chairs and a few plates of treats left over from the day before replaced them. He pushed his little brother onto a plastic chair in a corner, snatched up a plate of oatmeal cookies, and then dragged another chair over to sit in front of him. He picked up a cookie and waved it in Castiel's face.

"Eat," He ordered, "And then tell me everything."

Cas took the cookie gingerly as if it would explode if he gripped it too tight. Gabe studied him, knowing all the little signs that made Castiel what he was. Cas' wings were pulled tightly against his back, the feathers flattened, submissive and trying to make him smaller, his blue eyes were downcast, refusing to meet Gabriel's gaze, and he was nearly curled in on himself. He nibbled quietly on his cookie and Gabe hazard a guess,

"Was it Dean?"

Castiel twitched and stiffened, the cookie still pressed against his lips. Gabriel bristled. He hated seeing his brother like this. He had seen Castiel like this before, for years on top of endless years, and it burned him up inside to see his younger brother like this again. This was why he had chased away all of Castiel's other potential partners, this was why he didn't want Castiel getting involved, this was why he called Castiel ever single fucking night on the phone. Gabriel could and always would bounce back from almost everything, it was just his nature. But Cas, well, Cas kept his mouth shut and his head down because that was all he had ever known how to do and it had taken Gabe years to break his brother of the habit, to get him to talk. But he knew it that one tug in the wrong direction, one simple snap of a delicate thread, and Castiel would fall right back into his old submissive, obedient, quiet persona.

At that moment, Gabriel wanted to strangle the life out of the demon Dean Winchester with his bare hands.

"What did he do?" The older angel growled, trying very hard to keep his temper in check, "Castiel, what did he do to you? Tell me what he did!"

"He didn't do anything, Gabe." Cas said and it was in that monotone that sent a horrid pang through Gabriel, "I think…I think it was what I did."

"Cas, if you blame yourself for this then I swear to _god_ I am going to—."

"Gabriel!" Cas said sharply, raising his head so that his brilliant blue eyes met his brother's hazel ones and they were pleading for Gabe to listen, "I…Gabe, I think I may have touched a sore spot. I think I might have…asked the wrong question and it upset Dean."

"What did you ask?"

"I'd rather not repeat it." Those blue eyes dropped to the floor again and Gabriel sighed, pushing himself to his feet.

"Okay, little bro," The silver-winged angel said, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at Castiel, "Here's the plan, you're going to sit quietly back here until I get out of work and then you're going to come home with me and I'm going to make you a baker's dozen of cupcakes and you're going to eat every single one of them and watch horrible B-movies with me all night. Okay?"

Castiel nodded but he still wasn't meeting Gabriel's gaze. The older angel huffed, fluffed his wings, and ducked back through the curtain. His expression was one of carefully arranged cheeriness but inside he was furious.

He'd warned Dean, he'd _told_ him, that if the demon hurt Castiel it would be the last thing he ever did.

And Gabriel was finding it very, very difficult to take Castiel's words to heart.

Gabriel was not a forgiving angel.

* * *

_Dean dreams that he is racing the wind._

_He knows this dream, somewhere, deep inside him, he knows this is a dream and he knows which dream it is and he wishes—oh, he wishes with all his heart—that he can wake up. _

_But he can't. He never can. _

_So he keeps dreaming that he's flying, racing, winning, and keeps dreading what is to come._

_Sam's there, dropping behind, and his little voice is calling, calling, calling for Dean to turn back but he's Dean Winchester! He turns back for no man! Or demon, for that matter._

_He keeps going._

_The world turns black and he's racing in darkness and he doesn't know up from down, left from right. He's lost and he calls for help but the darkness snatches his voice away and throws it into the shadows. _

_And then hands grab him, pulling him down, down, down, too quickly, he's going down too quickly. Or is it up? He doesn't know._

_But what he does know is that when the pain hits, it's mind numbing and it's worse than anything he has or ever will experience in his lifetime._

_The agony is so great that it throws Dean from the darkness and back into the real world._

* * *

Dean jolted in bed with a gasp and a strangled cry, his chest heaving, his mouth dry, his limbs trembling. His back ached all the way down to his toes, a throbbing pulse couple with the painful twinge of oncoming cramps. He struggled out of bed, gripping the nightstand with white-knuckled fingers, and stumbled out of his room, across the hall, and into the bathroom.

Trembling, wincing, teeth gritted against the pain and tail kinked into an irregular shape of pain behind him, the demon scrambled to get the bathroom cabinet open. The world seemed far away, like he was reaching across a vast distance, and Dean tried to keep his breathing under control. There was a combination of pain and an empty hole spreading through his body, the white hot fire and the cold blackness battling for dominance and making his head spin. His skittering fingers found what he was looking for and he fought with the child-proof cap until the plastic yielded to his grasp and he dumped a couple of bright orange capsules into his palm. He dry swallowed them and then doubled over the sink, gasping, fingers digging into the porcelain as he waited for the drugs to kick in.

His thoughts whirled. It had been a while, nearly four months, since he'd had to take any medication. And here he'd through he'd been doing so well.

Dean's old self-hatred bubbled to the surface again.

He would not blame Castiel for this. It wasn't Cas' fault, he couldn't have known because—and Dean hated to admit it—Sam had been right. He should have said something. But that was not how Dean Winchester worked. He did not go around spilling his life story, he did not tell people when he had a problem, and if he had something to hide then, damn it, it stayed hidden for as long as he could possibly get away with it. And it was costing him. It had cost him. For all he knew, Cas might never want to speak to him again and Dean couldn't even work up the courage to answer his phone.

What a fucking coward.

The demon let out a tight breath and carefully straightened up from where he was hunched over the sink. His spine crackled in protest, his back felt tight, and his legs ached but the medicine had kicked in and he was feeling a lot less likely to keel over twitching on the floor. Dean glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror, saw sunken green eyes and a sweat sheened face and turned away.

There were too many goddamn, fucking memories tonight.

Dean flipped the light off, slammed the door shut, and went to see if he could drown the memories out with cheap whiskey and action movies with actors nobody remembered.


	16. Chapter 16

_The beginning of this chapter was actually the end of the last chapter but then I realized that it was going to be longer than I thought so I moved it to the beginning of this chapter instead. Also that last one just ended so very nicely on that sour note…_

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

"Gabriel."

"—_They got what you need, what you need! Like you say—!"_

"Gabriel."

"—_Oh my! Feels just like I don't try! Looks so good I might die! All I know is everybody loves me!"_

"Gabriel, please."

"_Get down, swaying to my own sound! Flashes in my face now! All I know is everybody loves—!"_

"Gabriel!"

"Bro!" Gabriel spun around from the oven, throwing his arms out in Castiel's direction with a wide smile on his face. He made quite the comedy piece and if Cas had been in a better mood, he might have laughed at the image of his big brother wearing oven mitts shaped like frogs and a bright red apron printed with the words 'Kiss Me, I Bake Cookies'.

As it was, Cas was not in the mood for a laugh so he simply sat and stared blankly at Gabriel until the older angel dropped his arms with a sigh,

"You are no fun at all. I'm just trying to cheer you up and you're throwing it back in my face. Scandalous!"

"Then stop singing every song I hate. You know I don't like OneRepublic."

Gabriel snorted and fanned his wings out before ducking back to get into his oven. The smell of wonderfully baked things filled the condo that Gabe called home. It was a bit much for Castiel's taste but Gabriel had always had a flare for the more expensive things in life. They each had their own way of dealing with things; Gabriel's seemed to be finding whatever it was that had hurt him, confronting it, and then beating it down. Castiel would rather hide from his metaphorical demons than seek them out.

"Then talk to me," Gabriel said, all serious-big-brother-business mode as he pulled out a tray of homemade cookies, "Or I'll sing Justin Beiber, next."

Cas actually glared at him, "You wouldn't. You hate him too."

Gabriel cleared his throat, _"Baby, baby, ooooohhh—!"_

"All right!" Castiel snapped, the first time he had raised his voice all day, "All right, it's just…it feels a bit private."

His brother was silent, letting Cas feel his way into the conversation, quietly peeling the cookies from the tray and setting them on the racks to cool. Castiel was sitting at the higher level of the two-tiered counter, facing into the kitchen, fiddling with the neck of the beer bottle in front of him. There was an awkward sort of tension in the room, one that both brothers were used to. Gabriel calmly staying out of Cas' face, Cas trying to work up the courage to tell his brother things he wanted to very badly to keep to himself, both of them smarting slightly from old scabs picked at by recent events.

"We were at a bar—The Roadhouse," Castiel finally said as Gabriel was putting the last of the cookies on the racks and reaching for his bowl to make another batch, "Just…just being together, not bothering anyone, and these demons—drunk, all of them—got in Dean's face about it." He took a drink of the beer, grimacing slightly at the thick sweetness and the burst of fruity flavor. Gabe's alcohol always tasted more like candy than beer, "They called him a freak and an outcast for…for courting me. So he got into a fight with them."

"Knight in shining armor." Gabe muttered, unable to help himself.

Cas ignored him, "I healed him afterwards, I had to, I couldn't leave him like that—he's an elementary school gym teacher, think about how that would have looked."

"You don't need to defend your choices to me, little bro." Gabriel said calmly, plopping some dough down onto the pan.

Black wings rustled and blue eyes darted across the countertop, "We were in the car on the way back to Dean's apartment and we were just talking about culture and…and I asked him…Gabriel, I asked him if he had wing envy."

There was the trickster part of Gabriel that wanted to make a joke, that wanted to crack a smile, but that distraught expression on Castiel's face froze him solid. That was another look he hated, the devastated look that said _I've done something wrong, I'm a terrible person, I don't deserve anything better than chains and filth_. Gabriel's wings swept forward over the countertop and brushed ever so lightly against the tips of Castiel's wings before withdrawing. It was not an intimate gesture, simply one that said, "I am here".

Cas choked and ducked his head, "And then he walked away. His face went blank and his eyes…and he just walked away. I said the wrong thing again, Gabe, I said the wrong thing and I hurt him and I was wrong and—."

"Castiel." Rarely ever did Gabe say his younger brother's full name, if only to get his attention, when he was being deadly serious, "The only thing that you have done wrong is love a man so much that you wanted to know why he hurt."

"God, you sound corny…" Castiel wheezed, burying his face in his hands, "What am I supposed to do, Gabriel? How am I supposed to _fix this_?"

"Why must you insist on fixing everything by yourself?" Gabriel grumbled in reply, "Angels might not have the tight-knit society of demons or werewolf packs but we're _brothers_, Cas. Brothers stick together. And we've been to hell and back. There's no way I'd leave you out to dry after that." The older angel scooted around the counter and ruffled Cas' hair, dusting it lightly with flour,

"Let ol' Gabe fix this up, 'k? I'll set it right for you."

"Don't kill him, Gabe, that's not what I want."

"I'm offended Cas."

"No you're not."

"You're right, I'm not. Now eat this cookie and go pick out a B-movie to watch while I make some very alcoholic drinks so we can get drunk and forget about your man pain."

"I thought I was the gay one. And I don't have man pain."

"Didn't I tell you to eat that cookie?"

Cas forced a smile that didn't reach his blue eyes and slid out of his seat, a cookie in his hand as he headed for the living room. Angel society and its social norms were stiff and foreign to him but he was not so ignorant as to not understand them. Males were dominant and brothers related by blood were deathly loyal to each other, it was considered unforgivable to leave a brother to fend for himself or deal with his issues on his own.

Castiel trusted his older brother more than he trusted anyone else on the face of the planet. But he wasn't so sure he wanted to trust Gabriel with this.

* * *

Jess tried only once to speak to Castiel when the angel returned to work after five days of absence. But Cas had nothing to say to her and simply turned away with a shake of his wings and a drop of his blue eyes. He spent most of his time in the back room, organizing boxes and quietly restocking shelves where he didn't have to communicate with anyone.

But Jess' stubbornness could rival a Winchester's (and she was a future one so it seemed fitting) and she cared for Castiel as a friend. So she did what she felt was appropriate given the situation and went to _Sweet Delights_ on one of her days off.

Gabriel was not behind the counter when she entered but the dark haired girl at the register happily offered to go retrieve him from the kitchen. When the silver-winged angel appeared, his feathers puffed up and his hazel eyes flashed. But that teasing smile remained as he kindly asked what he could do for the lucky bride-to-be.

"It's about your brother, Castiel."

The smile vanished. Gabriel glanced into the kitchen and then focused all his attention on Jess, "Your fiancé's brother has a lot to answer for. Cas doesn't deserve to be shunned like that. Not by anyone."

"Dean's not talking to Sam or I either." Jess huffed, not letting this winged man bully her, "He's not talking to anybody."

"Serves him right."

"Gabriel!" Jess snapped and the angel looked at her, surprised by the heated venom in her tone, "How dare you! That's so insensitive! Do you have any idea what—." She paused, "You don't, do you? You have no clue whatsoever."

"What is it that I am supposed to have a clue of?" Gabriel was finding that his initial anger was simmering down, his curiosity piqued. He could taste a story here.

"It's not my place to say," Jess admitted, shifting slightly. She ran her fingers through her hair, looking uncertain, and then finally said, "Dean's had it rough. Some people don't appreciate how rough he's had it, they don't understand what he's been through, what's happened to him. He doesn't talk about it and he shuts down if someone brings it up. I'm guessing…I'm guessing Cas accidently found his line and toed it."

"He asked him a question because he cared." Gabriel responded, fluffing his wings, "He was trying to understand Dean and the guy brushed him off. Castiel's not a wall, he's not stoic, he's just a metal box and he never lets anyone in." The angel snorted, "But he let Dean in and look what happened."

"I _know_." The human across the counter frowned, "And you're not listening to me. Dean's problem is that he doesn't talk and he _needs to_."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, "What are you proposing?"

"I'll get Sam to talk to Dean and, God willing, it gets him out from behind his wall. If it does, he'll want to talk to Cas, he'll want to set it right."

"How do you know?" Gabriel was decidedly uncertain but he was all too used to people using his brother (or himself) and then leaving him in the dust to lick his wounds.

"Because he's Dean Winchester," Jess said firmly as if this solved everything,

"And because he's in love."

* * *

_Dean dreams that he is trapped._

_He tries to escape but there are no walls, no ceiling, no floor, no door. There is only rolling blackness and he can't stay still or it will consume him. So he flees. He races through the darkness, trying to find a way out, calling for help, calling for Sam, calling for his mother and father._

_There is no one._

_The noise in the darkness is too loud. It drowns out everything else, snatches his breath from his lungs and whisks it away. Numbingly cold fingers tug at his legs, his hair, at his shirt, at any part of him they can reach and he feels small, so small, so tiny and vulnerable and, god, he's terrified. He's so scared he can hardly breathe but he keeps trying to find a way out._

_Fingers of ice dig into his leg and pull, pull, pull him down, down, down into the blackness. He screams and kicks and struggles and tries to get away but he cannot. He knows what's coming, knows what awaits him at the bottom—if there is a bottom—of this darkness, and doesn't wish to think of it._

_It wants him to think of it._

_Indescribable agony sears through him like lightning and fire and ice all at once. He knows he's screaming but he can't hear his own voice over the pounding in his ears. He writhes against it and his struggles drop him back into his bed._

* * *

Dean woke up cursing and swearing, sweating and shaking with phantom fits of pain. He was curled on his bed, his blankets tangled around him, his legs cramping, his back throbbing, his neck sore, and his head pounding. A pitiful whimper escaped him and he dug his fingers into the mattress.

No. No, he would not be a slave to this. He was past this. He was over this.

The demon growled low in his throat, a raspy sound of pain and frustration, and reached out a shaky hand for his bedside stand. With trembling fingers he pawed across its surface, knocking his cell phone to the floor and nearly tipping over his lamp. He found the plastic bottle he was looking for, fought with the cap, and ended up spilling a handful of orange pills all over the place. But he managed to swallow two and fought to straighten out his curled back. His tail lashed across the mattress and tangled in the blankets already trapped in his legs, his teeth gritted in pain as he tried to stretch out his cramped legs and straight his curved spine. Everything ached.

This is what he had to live with. What he had been living with for thirteen years.


	17. Chapter 17

_First of all, I just want to say thanks to everyone who's been reading this and leaving all those wonderful reviews. You guys flatter me, you really do, and I enjoy seeing all your responses to the plot, especially when you all scream because I've got you dangling by your fingertips from the edge of a cliff._

_That being said, DO NOT yell at me to update. I have a life outside of this fan fiction and I have a job where I'm working at least thirty hours a week. I'm tired and I'm cranky and I do not want to take SHIT from people saying they're pissed because I'm not updating as quickly as I was. It makes me angry and it makes me not want to write. _

_Just please be considerate before you start yelling at people to update. We're all human here, okay. I've got other things I'm working on besides this and my job and college comes first and foremost. This is secondary._

_So to the people who have been patient with me, who don't mind waiting for an update, who understand that having a job, worrying about school, and trying to write is hard, thanks I appreciate it. To the people pitching fits because I'm not updating as quickly as I used to, grow up. _

_Sorry for the massively long A/N. Now onto cheerier things._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

"_Mr. Winchester, please report to the office. Mr. Dean Winchester to the office please."_

Dean looked up from where he was scooping up a rouge soccer ball, tail twitching. He'd just finished up a class and wouldn't have another for an hour. But he couldn't help but wonder why he was getting called into the office. He silently wracked his brain to try and remember if he'd sworn in front of kid in the past couple of days or not but didn't recall ever doing so. He was very careful about the swearing bit.

When he pushed the office door open, Pamela gave him a look that was a strange combination of sympathy and 'I'm-so-glad-I'm-not-you'. Tamera jerked a thumb to the office's back door, which was supposed to be used only by teachers.

Dean's stomach plummeted to his feet.

Sam was standing by the propped open door, arms crossed, tail lashing agitatedly, wings half flared. He looked quite the menacing sight.

Dean swallowed thickly. It had been five days since he'd spoken to Castiel and he hadn't told anyone about it. But judging from the look on Sam's face, his brother had definitely heard it from somewhere and he was clearly displeased.

As Dean approached, he arched his tail up, flaring the spade at the end, clearly letting his younger sibling know that he was in no mood to be pushed around. Sam responded in kind; he wasn't going to take any of his brother's bullshit. The two of them ducked out the back door into the fall afternoon. It was a warmer than usual day but still chilly enough to call for long sleeves and jeans, the sun was shining through a cloudless sky, and there were still a few trees clinging desperately to the last vestiges of their leaves. Dean followed Sam around the corner of the building to the back that faced the playground. It was empty now and there were no windows around for anyone to spy on them.

Sam whirled around on Dean, "What the hell is wrong with you!"

"What—?"

"Jess came up to me last night and told me that something's been wrong with Cas! She told me she talked to Gabriel! What did you _do_!"

"I didn't do anything!" Dean snapped back, baring his teeth angrily, "I just—he asked and I couldn't—it's none of your business, Sam!"

"I _told you_ to tell him!" Sam shouted and his wings snapped out wide behind him, sunlight streaming in through the redish membranes and lighting up the dark veins of blood within. Dean felt a pang in his gut and a twinge down his spine and forced it away.

"I told you, Dean, I told you!" Sam continued, looking quite the intimidating picture with his wings spread and his horns catching the light and his tail poised to strike, "If you're as serious as you say you are about this guy then you have to tell him!"

"Then why don't you tell him if you want him to know so badly!" Dean spat, refusing to be intimidated by his younger brother.

"Because it's not my place! If you don't want people to know, I respect that! But, Dean, he's just trying to understand you! And you never let anyone in so how was he supposed to know! You need to stop being a sappy, teenaged dick for something that happened a long time ago and help him understand!" The anger had seeped out of Sam's voice and there was a familiar note of hurt, not for himself but for his headstrong big brother who kept hiding behind his stupid brick wall, "He's just trying to get to know you, that's all he wants, he just wants to understand. Dean, he thinks he did something wrong, he thinks the way you're acting is _his fault_ and he's miserable because of it. You need to talk to him. You need to explain."

Dean wasn't looking at Sam but was instead glaring at the gravel and weeds beneath his sneakers. There were a lot of words he could say, a lot of hot anger, spiteful venom, jealous lashes, and wall building bullshit. But instead he said,

"It always sounds so easy when you say it like that. But it's not. It's…god, Sammy, it's _embarrassing_. It hurts."

"If I said 'I know' it'd be a lie." Sam said in a low voice, his wings slowly folding in behind him and his tail stretching out to coil loosely into Dean's, "But…I can sort of understand. I mean, I had to tell Jess about—about the drug thing. And it was hard but I did it. And I feel better for it and we trust each other more because of it. Just try to tell him, okay? Not for me, but for yourselves."

"God, you're corny." Dean muttered but he gently tightened his tail around Sam's, gave it a squeeze, and then released it, "But fine, if it'll stop these chick-flick moments and you're girly whining, fine, I'll try and talk to him."

Sam smiled, "Jess told me Cas has been staying with Gabriel. Good luck getting past the big brother."

Dean groaned, "Great, this is going to be like walking into Hell with a bucket of lighter fluid."

* * *

And it was.

Dean had always thought that demons were some of the most intimidating Unnaturals he would ever see. But the angel Gabriel gave even Sam a run for his money when he saw Dean walk into _Sweet Delights_ that afternoon. Those huge gray-silver wings spread wide, stretching from one wall to the other, and an icy power crackled across the room.

"Gabriel," Dean put on his best placating tone as he approached the counter, "Look, I know you probably don't want to see me right now but I need to talk to—."

Gabriel's fingers flexed and something dropped down from the cuff of his button down to nestle solidly in his hand. Quick as a flash, he brought his arm up and Dean skidded to a halt, freezing when he found himself with a bright silver sword at his throat. The edges of its blade shimmered like a heat wave, its hilt curled like a fancy rapier's, and Gabriel's name was inscribed along the metal in curling letters. The angel himself wore a face of absolute fury.

"Cas wasn't kidding about the sword thing…" Dean murmured, his mouth dry.

"Not very many of us can do this." Gabriel replied in a low, dangerous tone, the sword completely steady in his hand, the point not even wavering over Dean's Adam's apple, "But those of us who can demand absolute _respect_."

"Then can I just say," Said Dean, ever the smartass who couldn't keep his mouth shut, "That I cannot take you seriously in a bright pink apron."

"It's magenta, you uneducated asshole." Gabriel growled, clearly not in the mood for joking around, "Now Castiel begged me not to kill you so I guess I'll pass on skewering your innards. But give me one very, _very_ good reason not to chase you out of here and make sure you never see my brother again."

"Taking this a little over the top, don't you think?" Dean grumbled, his tail arched behind him with the spade flared. He could move fast and demons had tough skin, it took quite a bit to cut them enough to bleed. But Dean had a feeling that Gabriel's sword might just pierce him as easily as wet paper.

"Give. Me. A. _Reason_." Gabriel ground out between clenched teeth, still poised to strike, still nothing but aggression and angry big brother.

Dean's mind started throwing up excuses, half-truths, and shields. It tried to drag him behind his wall, to protect him from the incoming missiles of rejection and betrayal, trying to encourage him to hunker down and hide his feelings and his secrets just like he'd always done because that was the only way not to get hurt. But Dean stubbornly put his foot down, kicked a hole in his stupid wall, and plowed right on to the other side. He looked Gabriel square in the eye and said,

"Because I love him."

The sword did not waver, the expression did not soften, but the wings twitched and pulled in half an inch, "I've heard those words before. So has Castiel. Why should I believe you? Give me a _reason_, Dean Winchester."

Dean bristled at the angry doubt but was curious about the disbelief and aching hurt that resonated clearly in Gabriel's voice. His tail slammed noisily against the floor and someone stuck their head out of the kitchen door at the noise.

"Get back in the kitchen!" Gabriel snarled and the door slammed shut after a quick look of panic, "A reason, Dean, give me a reason why I should let you talk to my little brother again! And it had better be a good one."

"You want reasons?" Dean growled, smoke curling out from between his lips, "I'll give you reasons! I love him because he does this weird thing with his wings when he's embarrassed where the feathers all go completely flat and it makes him look smaller. He hardly ever smiles but when he does and he means it, he smiles with his whole face and it's amazing. He's the greatest male kisser I've ever kissed because he uses his whole mouth. He does things to my tail that I think are actually illegal. I think it's adorable that he wears his tie backwards but I'd never tell him that. I know he thinks his wings are ugly but I think they're the most beautiful bunch of feathers I have ever seen. He actually listens to me when I talk. He's one of the most interesting people I have ever met. I love him because of who he is and how even when I didn't want to go all the way with him, even when I wasn't ready, he stepped back and gave me my space.

"That's why I love him, Gabriel. That's how you _know_ I love him. Now let me talk to Cas."

Gabriel stared at Dean for a long moment, hazel eyes searching over the demon's face, and then finally folded his wings behind him and dropped his arm to his side. Sometime during the motion, the sword disappeared and Dean realized that he was a little relieved to find it gone. It had been a scary thing to find a flaming sword pointed at his throat.

The angel titled his head to the side in a very Cas-like manner, observing Dean with a blank expression, those hard hazel eyes once again flitting up and down his form as if the truth would be written plainly across the demon's chest. Then, very suddenly, Gabriel broke into a smile and his eyes lit up. It was a mischievous smile.

"I believe you." He said cheerily and then looked over his shoulder towards the curtained room, "Hey Cassie, you can come out now!"

Dean thought he might whither away on the spot when he saw Castiel shuffle out from behind the curtain. Gabriel was beaming like he'd won an award and if Dean had been in a better mood (and not just been at the pointy end of a sword) he might have punched the guy. As it was, he had eyes only for Cas who was looking solidly at the floor and wouldn't raise his head.

"Cas." Dean said and the angel's black wings ruffled, "Cas, dude, look at me, will you?"

Ever so slowly, blue eyes rose to meet green. Dean had thought that would make it easier. It didn't. It wiped his mind blank and his mouth opened and closed stupidly. Gabriel saved him in a most Gabriel-like way,

"I believe you have something to say to my little bro?"

Dean suspected that Gabriel meant an apology.

Instead, he strode right up to Castiel, grabbed the angel's shoulders, and smashed his mouth against Cas'. Cas stiffened in surprise and then melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Dean, one hand sliding down to cup the base of the demon's tail and most of his ass, the other digging into strands of brown hair. Dean just held tightly onto the angel in front of him, sucking on his lips, his tongue, his jawline, anything his mouth could find. Castiel shuddered against him. Dean hummed and pawed at the hem of Castiel's jeans.

There was a click and the sound of a camera.

Both men snapped around to see Gabriel still standing behind the counter with his phone in his hands, grinning broadly as he stowed it away with a flourish, "Oh, by all means, continue. This was just for, you know, shits and giggles sake." He flapped his wings innocently at them.

Castiel scowled half-heartedly in his older brother's direction. Dean released his death grip on the angel and reached for Cas' hand. Cas subtly shifted his weight and half turned so that Dean couldn't reach his hand. Dean got the message and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Then he cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Cas, I would like to—to talk to you. Somewhere. Private. Where we can—somewhere private where we can talk. Please. There's something I need to tell you. Should have told you."

Words felt awkward and stupid and heavy and pointless and useless.

"There is…" Castiel hesitated, flicked his blue gaze to Gabriel and then back to Dean, "There is something that I wish to tell you as well."

"Cas—." Gabriel began and it was impossible to place the tone in his voice because it sounded like so many different things.

"Gabe." The younger angel said solidly, "Please. It is…only fair."

Gabriel shifted, wings stretching and folding and stretching and folding, and then sighed, shoulders slumping, "All right, little bro. I'll respect your decision. But if you're going to let him know, you'd better let him know everything. Like you said, it's only fair." He switched his narrowed eyes to Dean, "And you, Winchester—."

"I'm not holding back." Dean interrupted, tilting his chin up to display his horns, small as they were by demon standards. Gabriel snorted at the motion and ducked back into the kitchen with a wave of his hand and a half-smirk twisting his lips.

Dean turned back to Castiel, his sudden defensive aggression drained out of them, his head ducked and the spade on his tail flattened as it dragged across the floor, "I could apologize but it won't mean anything until I tell you…is there somewhere really, really private we could go? To talk"

Cas appeared to think about it, chewing on the inside of his lip in a way that made Dean antsy. His wings relaxed a little as though he had come to a decision and hesitantly took Dean's hand in his own,

"Come home with me."

Dean ventured a smile and was very pleased to see Castiel return it.

* * *

The small size of Castiel's apartment surprised Dean but he tried his best not to let it show. He followed Cas' example and kicked his shoes off at the door, slung his leather jacket on the hat stand, and then trailed after him into the living room.

"Sit," Cas said, gesturing to the slightly battered sofa, "I'll make some tea."

"Coffee." Dean responded immediately.

"Tea." Cas said firmly and took two steps into the kitchen, his black wings fanning slightly to hide himself from Dean.

The demon huffed but flopped onto the couch all the same, tail flexing and tapping out a nervous rhythm against the scuffed hardwood floor. He didn't look at Castiel's back shuffling around in the kitchen, his green eyes dropped to his big toe that was poking through a hole in one of his socks. Neither of them spoke, just let the silence settle around them, trying to find the comfortable niche it had always sat in but mostly sliding awkwardly across the walls and floor like icy slime.

After a long couple of minutes, Castiel came back into the living room with a tray sporting a rather battered looking teapot and two knock-off china print cups and saucers. He set them on the coffee table, poured them both cups, and then settled back against the couch, the edge of his wings brushing lightly against Dean's arm,

"I am listening, Dean. Whenever you are ready."

Dean blew on the steaming cup in his hands, feeling prissy and stupid with a teacup, and tried to organize his thoughts into a coherent pattern. He took a sip, decided tea wasn't as bad as he'd always thought, and said in a tone that was tighter than he expected,

"I was thirteen…"


	18. Chapter 18

_Ahhhhggg, ffff, sorry for not updating in forever but work is killing me and I'm dead, dead, DEAD. So sorry for the wait you lovely, wonderful peoples. _

_I also...kind of want to apologize for my overreaction last time. I was really tired and really cranky and I just lost my temper and I'm really, very sorry about making a mountain out of a molehill. I'll try and be better about that. _

_Here, have a flashback chapter._

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Dean was thirteen years old and Sam was eight.

They were supposed to be inside because of the storm that was coming. Dean was supposed to be keeping an eye on Sam because Dad had been called into work and Mom had had to run to the grocery store.

But Sam was restless and didn't want to sit still to watch a movie and Dean didn't want to cater to his little brother's every whim. So they went outside.

"Dean," Little Sam, all shaggy hair in his big eyes, shorter than Dean with looping horns that seemed too big for his head, "Mom said we're not allowed to go outside. She said there's a storm coming."

"Sammy," Dean said in a chastising tone, "Don't you want to learn how to fly? If you don't practice, you'll never learn!" And as if to entice his little brother to fly, he spread his wings out as wide as he could. They were darker than his brother's or his dad's and the deep crimson membranes between the blackish fingers stretched with the cool wind billowing through the treetops.

"But Dad said not without him or Mom around…" Sam murmured, shuffling his feet on the soft grass. Thunder rumbled overhead and he clutched at the front of his baggy hooded sweater.

"It'll be a quick flight." Dean assured him, flapping his wings once or twice in anticipation, "If you're gonna be a scaredy cat about it, then you can stay down here and watch me be awesome."

"But Dean—." Sam began but Dean was tired of listening. He backed up a couple of steps and ran across the backyard, following the direction of the wind, his wings pumping hard. Then he jumped, let the wind sweep up beneath him and lift him into the air. He teetered slightly before finding his balance in the swirling currents of stormy air, still too new at flying to have a perfect liftoff. He sucked in a deep breath, tasted the sweetness of the oncoming rain and the dank heaviness of a brewing storm. He'd be down before it hit, he was sure.

He could hear Sam calling for him from the ground, his wings—to small for the flight that Dean was pulling off—flapping at his back. Dean ignored him and barrel-rolled with the wind currents, his small, thin tail twirling around his waist as he did so. The wind picked up, dark clouds boiled overhead, and more thunder cracked overhead. Dean felt a buzz with energy; he'd been told that nothing beat flying in a storm. Oh, he knew he wasn't nearly an experienced enough flyer to be out during the actual storm. He'd fly until it hit.

Sam was still shouting something that sound vaguely like "I'm gonna tell Dad!" but again his older brother ignored him. He was Dean Winchester, he answered to no man.

The teenaged demon shot above the treetops and hovered, watching them twist in the wind before allowing himself to be swept along the currents. The first drops of rain began to fall. Dean would stay up until it got to hard to fly and then—

The storm came upon him in a single flash of lightning.

One second there had been easily controlled wind and thin rain, the next there was a howling gale and lashing sheets of water. Thunder exploded and lightning raced him across the sky. Dean's heart thudded in his chest. He realized he had made a very bad decision. He tried to turn back towards the backyard but he had no idea which direction he was supposed to turn in because all he could see was rain and lightning.

"Sam!" He cried desperately but his voice was ripped away by the wind, "Dad! Mom!" He couldn't even hear his own voice over the noises of the storm and the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

The winds tore him in one direction and then the other, ripping him across the sky and lashing his wings. He tried to flap them but the weight of the rain and the forces of nature rebelled against him, stronger, older, dangerous, and hungry for a little idiot demon boy who'd thought he was a man. Dean felt a terrified sob hitch in his throat. He wished he'd listened to his parents. He wished he hadn't had that fight with his dad about boys. He wished he hadn't yelled at his mom. He wished he had kept Sam safe.

Cold hands of wind and rain grabbed him and yanked him down in a tornado swirl of debris. A downdraft, the terrifying underflow, the riptide of the airways that were deadly to inexperienced flyers who didn't know how to escape them.

Dean didn't stand a chance.

His mouth was open in a scream that no one heard, his arms grasping at nothing, his wings pulled taunt by the wind. He knew he was stuck in a downdraft but his inner gyroscope was so addled he had absolutely no idea which direction he was going in. He had never felt so small, so lost, so desperate for the grasp of his parents' arms.

Something pierced through the membrane of his left wing and another scream was lost in the storm. The downdraft had released him but now gravity was doing its work and he had no control. Dean didn't like not having control. More points ripped into his wings, scored his arms and legs, made him try to curl up to protect himself. He tumbled through claws and fangs and agony, screaming and crying for someone, anyone, to get him out of this. He was snagged by gnarling fingers and dangled in the wind and rain, thrashing for a while and then, dazed and lost and confused, he slipped away into darkness.

That was how the rescue teams found him an hour later, caught in a tree half a mile from his house, beaten, bruised, soaked, and bloody.

* * *

Dean woke up slowly, rising through a muddy haze, lifting slowly from a stagnant pool of dulled senses and sticky movements to a stench of bleach and medicine and lights that were too bright.

His entire body was a numb sort of ache and when he tried to groan, he choked and coughed in his dry throat.

Someone said his name and he tried to look but the movement tipped him over the edge of an abyss he had been standing on and he fell back into darkness.

* * *

The second time Dean awoke, he rose faster and he was able to focus. The first thing he saw was Sam curled at the foot of his bed (hospital bed, white starched sheets, too stiff to be comfortable), his wings tucked against his back and his tail draped limply over the covers atop Dean's ankle. Dean sighed in relief. Sam was okay, Sam was all right, Sam was safe.

"Dean?"

The young demon turned his head very slowly and saw his mother and father in chairs beside the bed, looking anxious and tired. Mom's eyes were red. She'd been crying. Dad was doing that empty-faced thing he did when he was upset about something but was too man to show it. He had his wing around her shoulders and his tail twisted tightly with hers.

"M—mom?" Dean rasped, "Dad? You okay?"

Dad chuckled tightly but there was no humor in it, "Typical Winchester, worrying about everyone but yourself. We're fine, Dean, I promise."

"Feel weird…" Dean whispered, closing his eyes briefly because he did feel strange. Off.

"It's the drugs, sweetie." Mom responded and then she put her face in her hands and didn't say anything.

"My back hurts…" Dean whimpered and tried to roll over. But the motion was too fast, too quick, too much, bigger than he'd thought it would be, and he nearly rolled right off the edge of the bed. He would have if it hadn't been for his dad.

"Easy son," Dad said in a low voice, large, warm hands slowly lifting him back onto the bed, "You had quite the—quite the fall." He swallowed and Dean wondered at the strain in his voice.

"Sorry," He said, "I went out in the storm when you said…not to."

"It's okay," His father assured him, tousling his hair affectionately, "It's all right, Dean, you're safe and—and alive and that's all that m-matters." He cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at Dean.

Dean was confused. He felt light and heavy at the same time. There was tight stiffness wrapped around his chest and his shoulders and his back—god, his back hurt like nobody's business. It throbbed and twinged and when he tried to sit up he fell back with a sharp gasp of pain. He huffed in a combination of frustration and hurt and tried to use his wings to lever himself up.

Nothing happened.

Panic fluttered in the teenager's chest and he slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder. There was nothing but white hospital pillows. His breathing quickened, his eyes widening, his tail twitching beneath the covers.

"Dad, where's my wings?"

But his dad looked like he was trying very hard not to cry and his mom was already crying, her shoulders shaking, her face in her hands so that Dean couldn't see. Dean struggled to get up, to see if his wings were folded against his back even though he knew they weren't because he couldn't feel them. He accidently kicked Sam, who yelped and sat up, half awake, his own small wings flapping in his surprise.

Someone was making a small, painful, keening noise. Dean realized he was the one doing it.

"Where's my wings! Where are they! What happened! Where's my wings! Where's my wings!"

People rushed into the room, plucking at all the tubes coming from him, jostling Sammy off the bed and that just made Dean even more frustrated and hurt because nobody touched Sammy. He started screaming at them, thrashing against their hands. The room was blurry and he realized he was crying and he hated himself for it.

Something pricked his arm, a painful tug against his skin.

"Where's my wings! Give them back! Give them back!"

A wave of blackness rose up to meet him.

"Where're my wings…where are…where…my wings…"

* * *

His wings were gone.

Dad tried to explain it to him when Dean got angry with the doctor for using a 'baby voice' with him.

He'd been caught headlong in a very powerful storm and, after it had tossed him about for a good ten minutes, it had slammed him into a tree. From what they could tell, he had fallen straight down through it and its branches had ripped through his wings. By the time his descent had been halted, the membranes on his wings had been shredded, three vital joints in his left wing and two in his right had been snapped, and the bones connecting his right wing to his back had shattered.

The doctors had tried everything to save his wings but while they could mend broken bones they could do nothing to fix the shredded membranes or the shattered joint. To make matters worse, unless they had taken immediate action, the injuries could have become infected.

They'd had no choice but to remove his wings.

Dean was crushed and hurt and felt incredibly betrayed. His parents had let his happen, they'd let those stupid doctors take his wings away and now he would never, ever fly again. Not that he was sure if he wanted to. The very idea of going up into the air again sent a terrifying thrill of fear through him. He couldn't stand to see Sam, Sam and his wings, and he ended up yelling at his little brother, harsh words that he never would have said, that he wished he never had said. He found out a lot later—when he was twenty-three and Sam was eighteen—that his little brother had started doing drugs when he was sixteen, blaming himself for Dean's accident. It had been a rough time, a terrible time, a dark blot in the Winchester lifetime.

Dean was stuck in the hospital bed for a week and a half, simply recovering and loathing the stupid hospital food. When he was finally allowed to move again, it was for rehabilitation. It had been hard, harder than anyone had anticipated. The removal of his wings had been like the removal of his arms or his legs; his balance was off and he was constantly falling over, tripping and stumbling, his tail trying too hard to compensate for his missing limbs. His back ached constantly, he suffered from horrible cramps and nightmares, there were a lot of times he wanted to simply quit, and he felt small, incredibly small, without his wings.

When he was finally released from the hospital and allowed back into school, there had been a pep rally of sorts and Dean had hated every second of it. What were they celebrating? His recovery? He'd been butchered, mutilated, and scarred for life. Why did they think this was a cause for celebration?

That was when Dean had started to build his wall.

The foundation was self-loathing and it only built up from there, growing higher and thicker until he'd blocked out enough of the world to hide himself and his mangled body.

* * *

"…and that's...everything." Dean finished, turning his empty teacup around and around in his hands, looking at the dregs swirling around at the bottom, "So I guess…I'm sorry for being short with you, for not telling you. But your question—when you asked me about—it stung. Because as soon as the kids at school realized that I didn't give a shit about their sympathy or their pity or their attention, some of them started to mock me." His grip tightened on the cup and he set it down, afraid of breaking it, "Other demons, mostly wingers, called me out. Asked me if I had wing envy. Flapped their own wings in my face. I got suspended for a three days for punching a kid in the mouth and knocking out one of his teeth."

Castiel looked as if he didn't know what to do with himself. His blue eyes darted from Dean's face, to his shoulders, back to his face, to the teapot, back to Dean again.

"I didn't tell you because it's—it's pretty embarrassing for me. For demons. I didn't know what to do." Dean shifted on the couch, licked his lips, "A lot of the people I've been with, they didn't understand, you know. They thought it was gross or disturbing or something I needed to be pitied about."

"If you show me, I swear I will not pity you." Castiel said and there was such firmness in his voice that Dean remembered all over again why he thought this was the most amazing man he had ever met.

But still he hesitated. He did not take to rejection well, he never had. But he was also Dean Winchester and he was fiercely stubborn. So the demon shrugged off his flannel jacket and, after another second of hesitation, tugged his t-shirt over his head. Then, slowly, he turned around so that his back was to Castiel, his shoulders hunched, his head lowered. His tail coiled up into an anxious spiral, the spade flattened completely until it wasn't there at all.

Castiel raised his hand and timidly ran his fingertips down Dean's back. There was a V-shaped scar down the demon's back, stretching from each shoulder to meet at a point above the hem of his jeans, with two perpendicular scars running through each arm of the V. The scars were lumpy and white, and when Cas looked closer, he saw even smaller, thinner scars lacing the edges of the larger ones. He ran his fingers over the scars again, tracing the lumps and the ragged edges, and then pressed his palm between Dean's shoulder blades.

Dean hissed and arched his back away and Castiel yanked his hand back, "Sorry, does it hurt?"

"It's tender." Dean admitted, twisting his head around to watch Cas probe gently at the scars again, "I, uh, I used to have oil glands—made fun of Sam all the time for using girl products on his wings, ha ha. But, yeah, the spots where the oil glands were are kind of sore sometimes. And—and sometimes I get cramps in my back and legs. I've been on medication for it since the accident but I'm not as dependent on them anymore." He lowered his voice, "Still have nightmares sometimes too."

"I can understand." Cas said and leaned forward to kiss Dean's scars, gently tracing the arm of one V with his lips before pulling back, "I understand why you didn't want me to know about these, Dean. It's one of those…those things where you believe that if you don't think about it, like if you don't talk about it then it never happened. You can pretend that nothing ever went wrong and everything is still right in the world. That you don't have scars as shadows following you around every corner. I understand that very well."

Dean turned back around, confusion mingled with the barest hint of disbelief crossing his features. Castiel visibly swallowed and pulled his sweater over his head, revealing a chest that was better built than Dean would have thought. But his gaze was immediately drawn to the scar.

It looked as if it had been carved with a blade straight into Cas' skin; a circle with a large symbol in the middle and smaller symbols around it, the lines pink and tender looking. But lashed across it like an angry strike was a bright red score, a burn mark that was traced diagonally across the circle, breaking the lines.

Dean stared and then raised his green eyes to meet Castiel's blue ones, "What…what is that? What happened to you?"

Cas' expression was dark and hurt and Dean imagined that his had been very similar. They were walking into the shadows, through the dark veils of their pasts into things they both longed to forget. But they weren't doing it alone. Dean reached out and took Castiel's hand in his own, silently saying, "I am here."

Castiel took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said,

"Gabriel and I were not born on Empyrean…"


	19. Chapter 19

_Warning for this chapter: torture and rape. _

_Also this one is really long. But the end's worth it. _

_However, on the other end of the spectrum, I'm really, really, really, REALLY sorry for not posting this sooner. I…kind of chickened out. I completely stalled out on the chapters after this and I like to have at least two or three chapters finished after the one I'm posting. _

_Okay, I'm just going to be honest here: I haven't worked on this thing in months. Every time I think I'm going to, I just don't. I hate forcing myself to work on things because that means the writing is crappy and nobody wants that. The problem is I've moved onto another fandom and I can't seem to find my stride for this again and it makes me irritated because I had some things of epic proportions planned. _

_So here's the deal: I can post this chapter as the last chapter and leave it at that or I can post the two and half other chapters I have with a summary of what would have happened at the end. It's up to you guys. I'm just…really thinking this isn't going to get finished and I am so, so sorry about that._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

Gabriel and Castiel Novak were not born on Empyrean. Their names were not always Gabriel and Castiel Novak but for the sake of their lives they had to leave them behind, forget them like they had to forget everything else.

The brothers were from Archeon, the slave continent and Empyrean's tense neighbor. However, they were not born slaves. The two brothers were a part of a rouge nomadic tribe that lived in the desert regions of Achreon, traversing great seas of sand and hiding from the Unnatural hunters in homes they knew by heart. Most hunters never ventured into Achreon's great desert (affectionately referred to as The Cemetery), it was too dangerous, to vast, and too risky to venture in after the tribes of Unnaturals known to live there. But even hunters would do anything to fill their pockets.

Neither Gabriel nor Castiel ever knew their father. They were raised by their mother, an angel with steely gray wings named Bara, and by the rest of the tribe. It was a small place, it had to be to hide from the hunters, only about fifteen or so Unnaturals. But everyone pulled their weight and everyone raised the children. One person's child was everyone's child, that was simply how it worked.

"We are free people," Castiel remembered his mother saying to him when he was still very young, a fledgling, his wings still nothing but coal black down, "And people know how hard it is to keep that freedom. So we all work. Remember that; everyone works for freedom or there is no freedom at all."

"Yes mama." Cas had said though at the time he had not understood what that meant. But he and Gabe and the two other children (a werewolf pup named Keevin and a shapeshifter named Elizia) had done their best to help around camp. When they were small, there was little for them to do except perhaps sit in the sand and kick their feet and occasionally haul around small packages.

When Castiel was ten and Gabriel was twelve, Bara took them aside and taught them the powers of the angels.

"We have within us both the power to heal," She pressed fingertip to a scrape on Gabriel's knee and it healed instantly, "Or to hurt." She flicked her wrist and a sword dropped from the sleeve of her robe to nestle in her palm, "Never hurt when you can heal, " She instructed, banishing the sword as quickly as she had called it, "Your weapon is for defense of yourself or of those you cherish. Never use it to slaughter. That is not how you should live. Do you understand?"

"Yes mama." The brothers had chimed.

And thus they had trained. For seven years they evaded the hunters, for seven years they grew together, worked together, played together, lived together. Gabriel and Castiel were never separate. Gabe played pranks on Cas and Cas took it in stride, laughing along with his brother, his blue eyes wide and sparkling with mirth.

When Castiel was seventeen and Gabriel was nineteen, Hell found them.

One of their fellow tribesmen had been injured and movement had been slowed because of it. They lingered too long in the shade of a mountain and the hunters managed to follow their trail.

They attacked before dawn, when everyone was still asleep and the guards patrolling the camp were looser, having made it through the night without incident. Imagine it. Castiel was fast asleep in his tent with his mother and brother when the shouting started. In an instant they were all three of them awake and moving.

"Get out!" Bara shouted at them, her wings spreading wide, her sword in her hand as she strode towards the tent flap, fury evident on her features, "Get out and run as far and as fast as you can! Do not fly, they will tear you from the skies if you do! Get out! Protect each other! Do not look back!"

Gabriel grabbed Cas' hand and fled out the back of the tent. The sticky morning desert air smelled of smoke and sweat, their paths were blocked by walls of flames, columns of smoke, or other figures running or fighting or simply lying across the ground.

"What about mama!" Castiel cried, his dark wings flapping in his panic, trying to keep the smoke at bay, trying to fly free of the earth.

"Mama can take care of herself!" Gabriel responded, his sword in his hand. It had caught the flames of a burning tent and blazed in ritcheous anger and fear, "We need to get out! She told us to get out!"

Bara had told them not to look back. Castiel looked back.

He saw their tent through the haze of smoke and running bodies, he saw, silhouetted by the flames, the shadow of his mother and some men. He saw them fighting, sword swinging, knives flashing. There was the crack of a gun and he saw his mother's body jerk and twitch, her wings flailing. Her body crumpled.

"Mama!" Castiel turned back, yanking his hand out of Gabriel's grasp, and ran back for the tent even as flames began to lap hungrily at the walls.

A fist closed around the feathers of one of his wings and he gasped in shock, falling limply to the ground at the utter indecency of it. His head spun at the pressure on his wing, he heard Gabriel shouting, then a cry of pain, more shouting from his big brother, and then he was being dragged. The sand was moving underneath him and the joints of his wings ached where he was being pulled across the ground by them. Iron shackles closed around his wrists, his ankles, his neck, and a chain looped through them all, inhibiting his movement. When the hands released his wings, he snapped them open in a sudden fury, trying to attack, tripping and falling to the ground. They pinned him down and tied his wings together, yanking savagely on the hard cables so that they bit into his skin. Then they threw him, Gabriel, Elizia, and several other members of their tribe into the back of a heavy duty van and sped away into the gathering light.

They never knew for certain what happened to Keevin or the rest of the tribe. But they had a pretty good idea.

* * *

There were no windows in the back of the stinking van and it was hot and stifling. They had no idea how long they had been stuck back there, chained and captured. But when the van pulled to a hault, they heard raised voice and the hustle and bustle of many bodies. The captives all shared a panicked look and then the van doors were thrown open and the white light of the sun poured in, making them all wince.

One by one they were dragged from the back of the vehicle and shoved into a filthy cage already packed with shivering Unnaturals. The air was hot and thick and saturated with the stench of sweat and fear, the clank of their heavy iron shackles tangled with the shouts and the calls from the market outside, and Castiel pressed close to Gabriel, his bound wings aching, trembling despite his age because he knew where they were and what was coming. Gabriel reached out his bound hands and cupped them over Castiel's. They stayed like that for a log time, huddled amongst the other Unnaturals; Gabe holding onto to Cas and Cas pressed against his smaller brother's chest, head ducked into Gabe's shoulder as if hiding his face from the world would set everything right again. Every so often the door of the cage would clang open and an Unnatural would be dragged out onto the stand above to be sold to the highest bidder and every time it opened, everyone in the cage would shrink back, trying to hide behind one another so they weren't picked.

Eventually, after what felt like ages, the door clanged open and the men came for the brothers. They tried to pull the two apart but Castiel refused to let go of his older sibling and Gabriel snarled at them until they relented. There was a moment of confusion wherein no one was sure what to do. Then one man whispered something in his partner's ear and the other grinned, reaching out to grab hold of both of them.

Still clinging to one another, Gabriel and Cas were hauled up onto the stand in front of a crowd that eyed them as property instead of people. To one side stood a man in a suit, leaning over a microphone mounted on a stand. His diamond cufflinks caught the sunlight and winked at the brothers. Gabriel hissed in an animalistic manner, the feathers of his wings bristling through the cords that bound them. In sharp contrast, Castiel's feathers were flattened, his shoulders hunched. He tried to hide in the arms of his older brother, despite their height difference, but one of the men grabbed him and pulled them apart enough so that they were still touching but so the crowd could get a good view of them both.

"Well folks, we've got quite the deal here today!" Announced the man at the stand, working the crowd with a hearty grin, "Two young, strapping angels being sold as a pair! Just look at the quality of those wings and the strength in those arms! And they're easy on the eyes!" He announced the starting price and the bidding began.

Castiel remembered the sour taste in his mouth as he watched people—humans—bid on him and Gabriel. He remembered the revulsion and the anger and the hurt as people fought for ownership. He remembered most of all the way Gabriel trembled next to him and thinking that maybe his big brother wasn't as solid as Cas had once thought he was.

The bidding ended when a slight woman in a black dress with dark hair outbid her opponent times three hundred. Gabriel and Castiel were hauled off the stage and dragged into a backroom where their shirt fronts were ripped open and they were held steady by strong hands. The room was hot and stifling, filled with the smell of singed skin and hot metal, and there was a large, beefy looking man doubled over a furnace, working it with a bellow. Castiel strained his wings against their bindings, twisted in the grip of the men, but could not escape. Beside him, Gabriel was murmuring curses under his breath, trying to use jinxes that held no power.

The door opened and the woman—their new owner, strode into the room as though she own the place. Following behind her were two men in dark suits, guns obvious at their hips.

"Miss. Ruby," The big man at the furnace did a funny little bow, "Honored as I am by your presence in my shop, you may want to step outside. This here's not for a lady's eyes."

Ruby's dark eyes flashed at the metal worker, "They are my property now, Jauquin. I intend to make sure my property is handled with the upmost care and is treated as I direct."

Jauquin did the half-bow again and turned back to his furnace. He worked it again with the bellows, beady eyes carefully watching the flames. Ruby turned her attention to the angel brothers who stared right back at her. Gabriel's lip curled, showing his teeth, and Castiel felt a hot boil of rage coiling in his stomach. This was wrong. This was so very, very wrong. His blue eyes narrowed and he flexed the fingers of his bound hands, trying to summon his sword.

A jolt rocketed up his arms and stabbed him behind the eyes, making him crumple, his only support the harsh grip of the men. Gabriel snarled again and someone punched him in the stomach, winding him and making him double over. Cas was trying to find his feet again. He shook his head, swaying, and glanced at the iron shackles. They were inscribed with runes that glowed white hot against the metal, slowly fading away.

Binding sigils, restraining his powers. Castiel shuddered at the implications.

Ruby was still watching them silently, scrutinizing their behavior, their forms, their movements. She kept her distance from them, as if wary, but her gaze was sharp and calculated. She knew exactly what was going on and she knew that she had absolute control.

"Where would you like them, Miss. Ruby?" Jauquin asked, straightening up from the furnace. A metal rod was clutching in one of his meaty hands, the end glowing bright orange-yellow with heat. Castiel's eyes widened in panic and he shot a terrified look at Gabriel who shared his fear; that was a branding poker. The hot end was in the shape of a trident head, Ruby's personal mark.

"The same place I always have it," The woman answered flatly, "Tramp stamp them."

"Don't touch us!" Gabriel shouted as the men turned them around, bending them over and yanking their shirts off to expose their backs. There was a but of struggling involving moving the feathers aside to expose enough of the skin and Castiel heard Gabriel groan as these humans touched his wings. It was indecent, it was violent, it was _wrong_.

"The small one first." Ruby's voice said.

"Gabriel!" Cas shouted, bucking against the hold of his captors, trying to free his wings, trying to do anything, "No! No, leave us alone! Gabriel!"

"Easy, Cassie," Gabe sounded incredibly calm but Castiel knew what that meant, knew that Gabriel was panicking on the inside, simply trying to be the strong big brother, "It'll be okay, I'll take care of you. Just like I promised Ma—AAAHHHHHHHHHGGGGKK!"

"Gabriel!"

There was the sharp smell of cooking meat and Gabriel's high-pitched scream, the sizzle of burning things, and then a clang as the branding poker was tossed back into the furnace for another heat up. The puff of bellows. Castiel couldn't see his brother but he could hear his heavy, pained breathing, the shaky intakes of breath and the ruffling of shuddering wings. Another clang from the furnace and Cas felt the heat approaching the base of his spine.

He screamed wordlessly and tried to pull away but it was to no avail. Heat to intense it was cold seared his skin and seemed to set the rest of him on fire. He writhed, didn't know if he was screaming or not because of the white noise in his ears, figured he probably was, felt something on his face, twisted his head, realized his vision was blurry, realized he was crying.

The men flipped him around so he could see the room again and Castiel immediately looked for Gabriel. His brother was sagging in the grip of the other men, gasping, his feathers flattened and tears trickling from his eyes. Castiel had never seen Gabriel crying before, not even when they were little and he broke his leg.

Jauquin made to turn from the furnace again but Ruby made a noise in her throat, "Give them a moment. I want them in good condition."

The moment was more like fifteen seconds. Castiel's breath was still rasping thin breaths in his throat when the metal worker, the brandman, turned away from his furnace with a white-hot knife in his fist. The angel bucked and whimpered and tried to struggle away, the chains clinking, his wings quivering in terror.

"Hold very still, Feather Boy," The big man said, angling the knife towards Castiel's chest, "If you make me mess up, I'll have to start all over again and trust me, you don't want that."

But it was very hard to hold still when a molten dagger was carving a binding sigil into his stomach.

* * *

Ruby's house was not a house.

It was a mansion.

The place was enormous; three stories of large rooms and lavishly decorated corridors, with a flat roof covered in a garden for rooftop parties and wide grounds that altered between carefully tended grassy expanses and lush forests. There was a barn and fenced in area containing pure bred horses and even (so it was rumored) a centaur and a unicorn, a massive pool lined with gold behind the house, and the perfectly preserved skeleton of a massive dragon guarding the front lawn with its jaws spread and its wing bones flared.

Castiel hated it.

There was no tour of the house, there were no formalities, there was nothing except the shackles being removed and the brothers being shoved through a side door and left to stumble painfully down a dark set of stairs to a large basement sectioned off by a couple of hallways, the walls dotted with flimsy looking doors. There were a few Unnaturals milling about together in the halls but as soon as they saw the angels, they stopped what they were doing to stare. Castiel scanned the few visible Unnaturals, meeting their gazes with a hard, cold glare. There were two demons, a dark skinned angel, a humanoid whose species Castiel couldn't name, and a fairy.

One of the demons, the taller one, thin and angular, broke away from his fellow and stepped up to Gabe and Cas, "I'd say nice to meet you but it never is, is it?" His voice was greasy, oily, slick like a snake through tall grass. He eyed them both with a weird hungry look, "You're owned by Ruby Geneviene now. You do what she says, when she says it and life'll be just fine. Trust me, you've got it rather nice compared to other slaves."

"Let me guess," Gabriel sneered, his voice a painful wheeze because the raw brand on his back and the stinging sigil on his stomach, "You're the one in charge down here?"

"Alastair." The demon said with a small smile. His horns were thin and long and his tail was skinny and whip-like. It hadn't moved an inch since they had entered the basement, "And, yes, you could say that I am in charge. But only in the sense that I can show you to your room." He sidestepped and spread a hand out, offering for them to follow him. Gabriel and Castiel shared a glance and then trailed after the demon.

"So," The demon said as he walked down the hall, "Are you siblings? Lovers?"

"Brothers." Gabriel said coldly and told Alastair their names.

"Then you won't mind bunking together, I'm sure." Alastair hummed, pushing open a door and gesturing rather theatrically. The brothers peered in and saw a single cot, a sink, a toilet, a bath, and a small table with a single chair,

"Meals are served in the mornings, noon, and the evenings." The demon continued and then leaned in very close and purred into Castiel's ear, "And if you need anything at all…don't hesitate to ask. I can get you almost anything you need." And with that, he sashayed away. His thin spade flicked once in their direction before he met up with his fellows and ducked into another room.

Gabriel gently pulled Castiel into the room and shut the door firmly, wedging the chair under the handle before turning to attend to his brother. They plucked their ruined shirts off, cleaned one another's wings, and then inspected one another's injuries. With their powers sealed, the burns would have heal on their own. There would be scars left behind.

Cas gingerly trailed his fingertips around the outer circle of the sigil on his stomach and winced at the slight tingling of pain. He looked up to see Gabriel watching him with unreadable hazel eyes, felt a lump swell in his throat, and said in a tight voice,

"I want to go home."

* * *

Castiel and Gabriel were paraded around the house by Ruby, especially in front of guests. Angels usually had large families—flocks, they were called—but on Achreon it was almost impossible for an angel to establish a large family unless they were put into breeding programs. So finding a pair of brothers being sold as together was a real treat and Ruby did not hesitate to flaunt her money's worth.

Castiel loathed every second of it. They were supposed to be quiet and never speak, they were supposed to bow to Ruby and her guests, and they were supposed to serve them drinks and food with nary a word. Their wings were bound tightly in thick cables with something akin to a bicycle lock that could only be unlocked with a code and whenever they put a toe out of line (and sometimes when they didn't), they were beaten and were not fed.

Alastair was no help at all. He slunk around, eyeing Castiel with more than a little interest, and the other slaves seemed to fear and obey him as readily as they fear and obeyed Ruby. When Gabriel wasn't around, the demon would invade Castiel's personal space, paw at him, and wind his tail around Cas' arm or leg. Castiel avoided him whenever possible.

At night the brothers would curl together on their cot and try to sleep. Often times, Castiel could not and Gabriel would have to lure him to sleep with whispered reassurances and pressed good dreams into his mind when his eyes closed. But Cas was no idiot, he knew that Gabriel was suffering just as badly, choking in this freedomless environment even more so that Cas was. Gabriel was a spirit of wind and mischief, he'd had a reputation for joke playing and prank pulling, but chained and bound as he was there was none of that now. His hazel eyes were cold and angry, his silver-gray wings pressed against his back, quivering in withheld emotions, and when he thought Castiel was asleep, he would bury his face in his hands and cry.

He was not the solid pillar that Castiel had once so easily leaned upon.

So the angel sought strength and comfort elsewhere. First in the arms of Uriel, the dark skinned angel he had seen his first day. Uriel was a thick angel with surprisingly light, honey cream wings. His voice was deep and his smile was friendly, if empty of the emotion it was supposed to show. He listened to Cas, let Cas boss him around, let Cas take control. He was passive but loud. Too loud for the silence that Castiel was used to wrapping himself in at the time. So he left Uriel and went back to Gabriel for comfort.

But Gabriel was dealing with his own problems. Ruby had been considering starting a cross-species breeding program and her attentions seemed to be focused on Gabriel. At least, those were the rumors. People had been coming over to the house, people with low brimmed hats and long coats, people with tinted windows on their cars and dark voices, people who seemed like the wrong sort of people to get involved with. Gabriel was a knotted mess; he didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling and it exhausted him. He wasn't there to comfort Castiel at night or send him good dreams. But Cas kept his chin up, kept his back straight and his blue eyes hard with a glare because he was an angel and he knew what freedom tasted like.

When Castiel was nineteen, Azazel approached him tentatively but with the curiosity of someone who was testing their boundaries and experimenting with their sexual desires. He was younger than Castiel but age didn't matter when everyone was a slave. Before he'd been bought by Ruby, Azazel had been owned by gruff man with a large stretch of farm land. He was abusive and horrid to his slaves, his bad temper a result of his failing crops. When the land had gone belly up, everything had been sold, including the slaves. Most of them hadn't gotten away in one piece and Azazel lamented horror stories to Castiel about what had been done to his fellow captives.

"I got off easy," He told Castiel one night when the angel had shared his cot, "I'm a demon, see. Used to have these massive horns, very impressive. But the boss got mad at me one day and…" He gestured to the bulbous, jagged scars across his face and forehead, to the mangled flesh at his waist.

"This world is horrible." Castiel said, "I watched my mother murdered and now I'm watching my older brother die right before my eyes." He pressed himself against the younger Unnatural, "Help me forget about it."

So they did.

But apparently, Ruby got tired of Azazel, of his scars and of how she had to make sure none of the guests would see him. So one day he disappeared and Castiel was once again left clinging to nothing.

It made him easy prey.

Gabriel had not yet come down to the slave quarters, held up by Ruby who was having some sort of big to-do meeting or party or some such thing. Castiel was not in attendance because, well, black wings were not considered lucky in the presence of so many people. So Cas was curled up on the cot in their room, his back to the door, trying to ignore the dull ache in his wings. He heard the door open and rolled over, expecting to see Gabriel, tired and drained and dying slowly inside.

It was not Gabriel who closed the door to his room. It was not Gabriel who padded across the room and sat down on the bed. It was not Gabriel who ran thin fingers through his hair. It was not Gabriel who smiled thinly at him.

"You seem upset, Castiel," Alastair cooed, "Is it because Azazel left? You two seemed rather…close."

"We were not close in the way you are using the word," Castiel countered, sitting up and edging out of the demon's reach, "We…helped one another."

"Of course you did. But you miss him?"

Castiel didn't answer, clenching his jaw and curling his toes on the cement floor. Alastair's smile widened but in the sense that it seemed to stretch across his face without ever showing any of his teeth.

"He left a _hole_, didn't he, Castiel?" The demon leaned in and Cas leaned back, wondering where Gabriel was and why he hadn't come back yet.

"And it _aches_, doesn't it? Your brother isn't the same, he's not strong enough. I'm strong, Castiel," Alastair was much too far into Cas' personal space. His breath smelled like sulfur, "I can fill that hole. I can make that ache stop."

"I do not need your help with anything." Castiel growled, pressing against the wall.

"Oh, I think you do." Alastair dug his fingers into Cas' shoulders and kissed him forcefully. Castiel fought back, kicking his feet, pushing against Alastair's thin frame. The demon was shockingly strong and he leaned into Cas, pressing his body against him, tonguing the inside of the angel's mouth, tugging on his lips. Castiel shouted and bucked and tried to get away but Alastair would have none of it.

Hands groped into his pants, a hot mouth bit down his neck and shoulder, clothes were suddenly gone and Castiel could do nothing to stop it. Alastair knew exactly where to sit, where to push, where to hold so that the angel couldn't get away. He'd done this before. Many, many times.

The shock of it made Cas tremble, he cried, he screamed, and no one came. Alastair dug into Castiel's wings as though he owned them, he rode hard into the angel, he whispered claims and dangerous tones into his ear, he claimed his body with bites and kisses, he used his tail and his fingers to violate Cas, and when he was done, he simply left. He'd had his way. What was the point in staying?

Castiel wrapped himself in the cot's thin blanket, hid his face in shame, and cried.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that but when the door opened, he flinched and buried himself deeper in the blanket.

"Cassie?" Gabriel's voice. There was a pause, apparently as the older angel took in the smell of sex, the sight of Castiel's clothes on the floor, and the curled form of his brother beneath the blanket,

"Castiel, what happened? Who did this to you?"

The stoic column that Castiel had been trying to build crumbled and, tangled in the blanket, scratched and bruised and broken, he collapsed into Gabriel's embrace and told him everything.

* * *

It all went downhill from there.

Castiel fell and took his stoic attitude with him. He shoved everything that he was into a metal box, climbed in after it all, and refused to come out. He hung his head, his wings were lax in their bindings, and he spoke not a word. Gabriel tried desperately to pull his brother from the bog of self-loathing and despair that was slowly sucking Castiel in but the harder he tried, the more Cas turned away. The brothers argued, they fought and spat and snapped at one another, a bitter gulf spread between them and when they realized what was happening they ached together because it wasn't supposed to be that way but neither of them had any idea how to fix it.

One day Alastair was found behind the pool shed severely beaten and Gabriel had bruised knuckles and a split lip. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened. The two were punished and Gabriel's wings molted loose feathers for a week because of it. Castiel said nothing, did nothing, expressed nothing.

Then, on Castiel's twentieth birthday, when Gabriel was twenty-two and had apparently given up on dragging his little brother out of the miasma of depression, something changed.

It was late and the two brothers were curled beneath their blanket, backs to one another, wings brushing. Castiel's blue eyes were wide open, his breaths shallow. There was a shuffle and Gabriel rolled over, twisting the blanket tightly around them.

"Hey Cassie, you awake?"

Cas grunted quietly in response.

"I have a birthday present for you," Gabriel whispered in a voice so low it probably didn't even carry to the door. His warm breath tickled Castiel long dark hair, his voice rumbling against Cas' chest, "I've been planning it for ages, just a coincidence it happened to fall on your birthday. Do you want to know what it is?"

Cas grunted again.

"Oooooh no, nuh-uh, little bro, you've got to ask me. Open your mouth and say 'Gabriel, what did you get me for my birthday'? Come on, say it. Say it or I won't tell."

Castiel sighed. He knew Gabriel would tell him either way but he would pester him for hours before that ever happened, "Gabriel," He repeated in a dead voice, "What did you get me for my birthday?"

Cas felt his big brother lean in very closely, his lips inches away from Castiel's ear. And then, in a voice that was only a fraction above an indistinguishable murmur, he said,

"Freedom."

* * *

"For an escape plan, it was relatively simple." Castiel wasn't looking at Dean. His eyes were closed and his hands were cupped over the sigil on his stomach, "Azazel wasn't sold, he escaped over here to Empyrean. There are activist groups here that feel very strongly about what goes on Achreon though very few of them actually do little more than wear T-shirts and protest outside of government buildings."

Dean nodded; he'd seen those folk before but had always disregarded them. Yes, what happened on Achreon was horrible and, yes, it pissed him off. But he didn't understand was waving a sign at a bunch of men in suits had to do with any of it, or how it even helped. It just made them look like a big angry mob with signs that milled around and accomplished very little.

"But there is a very rich man; a business man, if you will; who is…far more active." A sliver of blue appeared but it was looking at the hands clasped in his lap, "Balthazar is not his real name. No one knows what his real name is or what he actually does for a living, only that he helps Unnaturals escape Achreon and start a new life here on Empyrean. He's been doing it for many years and he's very good at it."

"Your 'cousin' Balthazar…?" Dean ventured, "That's who you meant, the guy who helped you and Gabriel escape."

"He keeps a close eye on the people he's helped, visits them every so often, makes sure they are settled, safe and protected." Cas answered. He blinked and his gaze wandered to the edge of the coffee table where they fixated, staring off at something no one else could see,

"We faked our deaths. Alastair was the perfect alibi and no one was against killing him. We made it look like a fight had gone wrong and fled the mansion. Before we could cross the ocean to Empyrean, Balthazar had to break the binding sigil on us. It hurt but the release was worth it. Then we came here, set up new lives, tried our hardest to forget about the past and started over again."

Blue met green in an instant, "And that's everything. That is my whole story. Now you know where I came from and what's happened to me. So I will understand if you don't want anything to—."

Castiel was abruptly cut off by Dean's mouth pressed against his. Fingers curled gently into his feathers and the angel groaned, the noise swallowed by Dean's tongue and lips. The demon gently moved in, careful, tentative, but Castiel was tired of waiting and he did not let the past inhibit him.

He grabbed the base of Dean's tail and yanked up on it sharply, making the demon yelp and throw himself forward onto Castiel's chest to escape the sensation. Cas lowered his head and nuzzled Dean's neck, Dean's fingers trailed down Cas' back, bumping over his spine. Cas gently wove his hands up and down Dean's scars, then swept them around his sides and shoved his fingers down into Dean's jeans, cupping his hips. Dean growled playfully and nibbled Cas' shoulder, pressing him back and down against the arm of couch, his own hands fumbling to find the front of Castiel's pants. Cas chuckled and tilted his head to capture Dean's mouth in a fervent, needy kiss. Dean's tail got tired of waiting and curled up to press into the fabric between Cas legs. Cas made a noise like a strangled gasp and Dean hesitated.

"D—don't stop." Castiel whispered, freeing one hand to grab one of Dean's horns and pull him down so their faces were a hair's breadth apart. He massaged the base of the horn and Dean hummed appreciatively, pressing against Castiel, mouthing his lips, still fighting with the angel's slacks.

"Won't." Dean breathed, green eyes lidded but burning,

"Do anything for you, Cas. I'll do anything."


	20. Chapter 20

_All right, sorry this took so long to get up, I've been really super busy. Double post because there's this chapter and then the half of the next one with a summary of the ending. _

_Thank you all for sticking around and being so understanding and I'm sorry I couldn't finish this the way I wanted to._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

In the after glow, the two of them still sprawled together on the couch, Dean had a sudden idea. Castiel was on top of him, nestled in his arms, wings spread around the both of them. His head was resting on Dean's chest, his eyes closed, and Dean had his fingers deep in the base of Cas' wings.

"Hey, Cas."

"Mm?"

"I want to make it up to you. Me being an asshole, I mean. I want to apologize. _Really_ apologize."

"You already did." Cas' voice was a sleepy mumble.

Dean made a noise in the back of his throat and Cas opened his eyes, tilting his head so that his chin was on his partner's chest. Dean stroked his fingers through the angel's downy feathers and Cas shuddered against him, lips twitching into a slight smile.

"I…remember how I told you the October New Moon was special to us?" Dean asked, leaving one hand in Castiel's feathers while he tucked the other behind his own head, propping himself up so he could see his partner better.

"Yes. Why?" Dean smiled and Cas' eyes widened, "You…you want me to participate? But I thought—that's sacred to demons. I don't think I should—."

"You're a part of the family, Cas." Dean murmured, his tail coiling around Castiel's leg, his nose nuzzling into the angel's neck, "I want you to be a part of the demon community, I want to share it with you."

"I like it when you talk corny."

"I only talk that way after sex."

"We should have it more often then."

"Are you changing the subject?"

Cas' cheeks turned pink and shifted against Dean, feathers brushing skin, "No. Yes. Dean, it's just…I don't know how to feel about this. I'm honored, don't get me wrong, but I am also…I'm nervous."

Dean grinned, "Dude, don't freak out. Me 'n Sam, and Mom and Dad'll be there the whole time. It'll be fun, trust me. Demons know how to throw a party." His fingers skittered over the trident brand on Cas' back,

"I'll protect you, Cas. You're safe with me. I promise."

* * *

Castiel would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous wreck.

Dean had told him not to worry, that it didn't matter what he wore or what sort of entrance he made, but growing up in Ruby's household had beaten a small sense of appearance into the angel. That and angels were big on looks; the prettier the wings, the better the mate, the higher the class. Cas hated it, personally, but it was part of society. Angel flocks were all about looking good and looking right and being as upstanding as possible.

Demons, on the other hand, were simply about family. The closeness and the warmth of their society was a stark contrast to what Castiel had been introduced to upon his arrival in Empyrean.

But he still nervous.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He confessed to Gabriel, picking at the hem of his button down shirt, looking out the window at the red tinted street beyond Gabe's apartment, the shadows stretched long in the setting sun.

It was two days after Dean's invite and two weeks before the New Moon. Cas had popped over to Gabriel's for a chat and some of his big brother's delicious cupcakes. Gabriel was perched on the couch in his living room, facing his flat screen (Cas had no idea how his brother afforded all these luxuries and had never dared to ask), his feet propped up on the coffee table, a cupcake in one hand, a candy bar in his pocket, and a glass of wine on the table. Cas, meanwhile, was pacing nervously between the window and the armchair, his dark feathers puffed up and his fingers fiddling with anything within his reach.

"I think you should go." Gabriel said and took a bite of his cupcake, licking the bright yellow frosting from his lips before he spoke again, "You like him, right, you want to be a part of his life? If being a part of his life includes being a part of his community then I think you should do it."

"But…" Castiel glanced at his brother apprehensively, "Gabriel, I don't think you understand. This is sacred to them; the New Moon is a night for demons. I'm an angel, I just wouldn't…fit in."

Gabriel snorted, raising an eyebrow at his younger sibling, "Is that what you're worried about? Not fitting in? Cassie, you're dating a demon and from what I understand, that makes you part of their community, which basically makes you one of them. They won't care if your wings have feathers and you don't have horns. 'Sides," He finished off his cupcake and sucked the frosting from his fingers as noisily as possible, "I think if anybody did take a jab at you, ol' Dean-o would blow a gasket and go ballistic on 'em."

Cas couldn't help the small smile on his face, "I suppose you're right. Dean wouldn't have invited me if he thought I would be uncomfortable."

"There ya' go, then!"

Cas hesitated, his gaze flitting out the window again, "But what am I supposed to wear…?"

Gabriel threw his hands into the air as if Cas were a helpless case, "Dear God, and I thought Dean was the girl in this relationship!"

Castiel kicked his feet off the coffee table and stole the last lemon icing cupcake.

* * *

"Castiel told me you invited him to the New Moon." Jess said in a conversational tone as she flipped idly through her wedding folder, piles of magazines and clippings and samples spread all over the couch around her. Sam was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, the end of his tail wrapped loosely around her ankle. His arms were full of bridal magazines he was patently holding for his future wife.

Dean, once again taking advantage of Jess' hospitality towards future family, was sprawled in the arm chair with a beer in his hand, contentedly munching on a handful of Cheezits, the box wedged between his leg and the arm of the chair. At Jess' statement, he looked up, blinking in surprise,

"He did? What's the matter with him? Is he still nervous about it?"

"Yes," Jess answered and tugged a magazine from the stack in Sam's arms to flip through it instead, "He said he doesn't know what to wear."

Dean threw back his head and laughed, stomping a foot on the floor. Sam scowled at him but didn't say anything. Jess pretended not to notice. The eldest Winchester settled down into a few light chuckles and shook his head, "God, I told him it doesn't matter. I keep telling him that and he never listens. If he shows up in a suit I am never going to let him hear the end of it."

"Have you even explained to him what this night is about?" Sam asked, leathery wings twitching at his back.

Dean grinned mischievously, "Nope. I thought I'd make it a surprise."

Sam, predictably, bitchfaced (Number 50: 'I know you think you're funny but really you're just an asshole'), "You're horrible. At least I had the decency to let Jess know what was going to ha—haaappen." Sam's shoulders slumped and his neck arched as Jess absently reached out to massage the base of his huge ram's horns, "N-not fair, Jess…"

"Let Dean make a mess of his relationship by himself," Jess said as Dean pointedly turned his attention to the ceiling and narrowed the spade on his tail, "But Sam's right; you should at least warn him. A little bit."

"Ooohh, I like you Jess." Dean said, grinning at his younger brother's fiancé, "You and me, we're going to be _best friends_. I'll teach you all the little things to do to piss Sammy off."

"Stop turning my girlfriend against me." Sam muttered good-naturedly.

"No," Dean said, grabbing another handful of Cheezits from the box, "Not until she gives me something I can use to blackmail you with."

"Don't hold your breath." Jess answered without looking up but there was a smile on her face.

* * *

"So a little birdy told me you're going a little nuts over this invite to the October New Moon."

"_I—no. No, I am not going 'a little nuts'."_

"Oh really? So you didn't frantically call my brother yesterday babbling on about clothes?"

"No. Yes. Not really. He called me trying to tell me what would be happening on the October New Moon night and I wanted it to be a surprise so I sort of…started talking over him. We—we ended up shouting over one another."

Dean howled with laughter, pulling the phone away from his head so he didn't ruin Castiel's eardrums. His tail beat against the cupboard next to him as he pushed his stirring spoon through his noodles. He could vaguely hear Cas saying something to him that sounded slightly reprimanding but he was just too entertained by the image of the angel screaming into the phone to pay attention. When he finally did put the phone to his ear again, all he got was a dial tone. Smirking, the demon ended the call, waited a second, and then hit Cas' number on his speed dial. It rang once, twice, three times, and then there was a click,

"_Stop calling me. I don't want to talk to you."_

"Lying's a sin, you know."

"_So is lust but you never hear me harping on you about that."_

"Ooooohhh, snarky today, aren't we?"

Castiel snorted into the phone, a windy-static sort of noise, but said nothing.

"Look, if you're really so worried about the clothes thing I can tell you what to wear." Dean flicked the stove off and pulled the pan off so the noodles wouldn't burn on the hot surface, "Something you don't mind getting dirty. Or ripped. Or lost, that tends to happen a lot."

A pause on the other end of the line, _"Now I am curious. What exactly happens during this night?"_

Dean grinned, "I'm not going to tell."

And he hung up the phone.


	21. Chapter 21

_This is the official last chapter of this fic that I will post. There's a summary of what would have happened at the end. Thanks again, guys, you were all amazing and I love each and every one of you._

* * *

**The Title of This Sappy Romance Novel**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

* * *

Cas wandered up to the window, stared down into the tiny parking lot, and then wandered away again. He flitted into the kitchen, wings rustling, plucking at the dishtowel hanging on the front of the stove. It was 8:55 on the night of the October New Moon, pitch dark outside, the blackness splintered by the yellow streetlights, and Castiel was anxiously awaiting Dean's arrival.

It was stupid, he knew, to fret and fumble around like he was doing, but he was nervous. An angel in a crowd of demons, partnered to a male demon, an angel with black wings and demon who had lost his own.

God, it sounded so corny and pathetic.

And somehow incredibly romantic.

Fumbling now to get his boots on for no other reason than to be prepared, Cas absently wondered if he was supposed to bring something to eat, like a potluck. Then he shook the idea from his mind—he really needed to calm down—and stood up from the couch, straightening his dark brown hooded sweater and pushing the creases from his jeans.

Lights traveled almost lazily over the ceiling of his tiny apartment and the angel darted to the window in time to see a dark Impala pull into the parking lot. He grabbed his scarf and coat, locked his door behind him, and tripped down the stairs as he tried to pull them both on at the same time. The air wasn't as cold as it had been but it still had a chilly sting to it that wound into Cas' feathers as he ducked out the front door. He dashed across the parking lot, threw open the passenger side door, scrambled inside, and slammed it shut behind him. Dean looked up in surprise, his cell in his hand, obviously in the process of calling the angel to let him know he was there. Then he grinned and his tail reached out curl around Castiel's wrist.

"Hey baby, lookin' a bit chilly there."

"It's October, Dean, the wind is cold." Castiel gently tugged his arm out of Dean's tail so he could buckle his seatbelt, "I hope wherever this thing is, it is someplace warm."

Dean hummed and maneuvered his Impala out of the world's tiniest parking lot, "Weeelllll, not exactly. But it'll warm up pretty quick so you won't even notice. In fact, you'd be better off leaving your coat and scarf in the car; you'd probably end up losing them anyway."

"Where is this…thing taking place?" Castiel peered out the window, the darkened world flashing by as Dean drove through the streets, "You never said."

"It's a surprise~" Dean said in a sing-song voice and then chuckled with Cas frowned at him, "Hey, hey, you're the one that didn't want any spoilers, you've got no right to look at me like that. But, uh," The steadfast smirk faltered for a moment, "I just want to say, in advance, if you get uncomfortable, if anything bothers you and you want to get out, then just tell me, okay?"

Cas looked at him sharply, brow furrowed, the feathers on his wings puffing up, "What do you mean? Why would I be uncomfortable?"

"Er…" Dean sucked his lower lip between his teeth and gnawed on it in an anxious manner, the spade on his tail flared wide and then flattened almost to nothing, "Well I didn't—I wasn't going to tell you, mostly because I thought you wouldn't want to come, but, uh, the New Moon is kind of…" He paused as if trying to think of the best description and then a mischievous sort of smile appeared, the kind of smile that was not unlike something Gabriel often wore,

"It's kind of like a massive orgy fest."

Castiel stared, "What?"

Dean glanced at him and burst out laughing. It petered out quickly, however, when he realized that Cas was still staring at him in shock. He cleared his throat and looked pointedly out at the road, stumbling out an explanation,

"I mean, it's not _exactly_ like that but it's kind of how we like to describe it. I dunno if demon communities in other cities do it differently—I don't think they do—but it's how we do it. It's the night when we connect with each other, reestablish old bonds, make new ones, and it's when Unnaturals are said to be at the peak of our power. There's always a contest somewhere of a group of demons trying to breathe fire on nights like this."

"Dean—."

"If—if you don't want to go, I can turn the car around and we can go back and do something else. I mean, I really should have told you, I should have realized you might be uncomfortable with it after…so it's not a big deal if you—."

"Dean!"

"Wha?" The red glow of a stoplight cast soft, blurry shadows across Dean's face as he turned to look at his partner. Yellow-orange streetlight and traffic light red caught the angles of Castiel's face and seemed to turn his incredibly blue eyes a deep shade of purple-black.

"I'm not uncomfortable. You just took me by surprise. I'll be all right as long as you're there the whole time."

Maybe it was the traffic light but it looked like Dean's face turned red in the darkness.

* * *

They drove on, chatting quietly about meaningless things, the late night classic rock washing over them as background noise. Castiel occasionally tried to trip Dean up by throwing out questions but the demon caught him every time and simply gave him an evasive answer to which Cas would usually huff in irritation and puff his wings up, which only encouraged Dean's behavior.

It was a little past ten when they pulled into the park, Dean carefully maneuvering the Impala through the cramped lot at the edge of the tree line. The parking lot was crammed with cars, packed in as tightly as they could go, taking up every space there was. It took some effort to climb out of the Impala, pressing up against the car and sidling out sideways between two vehicles.

Dean took Castiel's hand and led him into the park, smiling to himself, his tail curled lightly into the feathers of Cas' dark wings that almost vanished in the night. There were lights glimmering in the direction of the massive gazebo in the center of the park, faint music and voices could be heard, and there were obviously people moving around. Cas shuffled closer to Dean and Dean gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. A shout in the dark and suddenly a handful of figures broke away from the group in the gazebo, pounding across the grass towards Dean and Cas.

* * *

_Summary:_

So the park's filled with hundreds of demons and their bonded mates, the entire demon community has turned up for this event. And, of course, not all of them are demons; some are humans or other Unnaturals and everyone gets along just hunky-dory.

There's music and dancing and a bonfire and food and drink. So Cas is really nervous at first but as the night goes on he loosens up and actually starts to have fun. He plays drinking games with Dean and some other demons, does some arm wrestling, flashes his flaming sword around because Dean wants to show off his awesome boyfriend, and Dean gets into a wrestling match and tries to breathe fire along with a bunch of other demons. Eventually everything dissolves into kissing and hugging and groping and even demons that don't have bonded mates are on the ground with someone. Cas is really confused about this and Dean explains through kisses that the New Moon tends to heighten their powers (as it does with the other "dark" Unnaturals) and stirs up their blood into a passion.

Cas brands Dean's shoulder with his hand print which is traditional for angel couples and Dean uses the tip of his tail to carve his mark (I never really settled on what that was) into Cas' shoulder, which is traditional for demon couples.

They're in a happy little bubble and there was going to be some chapters about the stuff they did together. Probably Cas learning how to take care of Dean's scars and Dean learning how to groom Cas' wings and both of them being awkward about the rules between their races. There probably also would have been some more things about other Unnaturals scowling at them and some hints dropped about the upcoming plot because I love blatant foreshadowing that nobody pays attention to.

Anyway, everything's going great until one day Balthazar shows up and tells them that Ruby has been looking for them this entire time and she's just now found out that they're in Empyrean. Of course, this sets everyone into a frenzy. Cas freaks out, Dean gets all kinds of pissed, Sam tries to be levelheaded, Gabriel's being quietly furious and scared at the same time, and Jess is trying to be the mediator.

There's a giant meeting with the demon community and, with Cas and Gabe's permission, Dean explains (not _everything_) about Ruby. So, because Cas is Dean's partner and is part of the demon community and be default that makes Gabe a part as well, they all agree to hide and protect the angel brothers. Cas and Gabe are constantly watched by members of the community, everyone's on alert about travelers from Achreon, and both brothers are guarded everywhere they go. Insert Gabriel making some sort of crack about all of this cramping his style.

Anyway, this goes on for a bit and Dean's starting to think that maybe this was all a false alarm when he gets a call from Sam to meet him at _Sweet Delights_ and to pick Cas up on the way.

Dean picks up Cas and Cas is basically a wreck and he's so upset he can't even tell Dean what's bothering him. When they get to the bakery, the place is pretty much trashed. The owner says he only stepped out for a bit to restock or something and when he came back there were police cars everywhere, a couple of unconscious demons, and Gabriel was missing. It doesn't take much for everyone to put two and two together and figure out that Ruby's capture Gabe.

There's a lot of arguing, debating, a few tears, lots of rage, but eventually Cas and Dean go to Achreon to rescue Gabe. However, despite all their careful planning and how careful they are, they get captured and locked up to be sold at auction. Sam and Jess, waiting in the wings, figure that Dean and Cas have been gone too long so they concoct a plan: Jess poses as an owner and Sam is her demon and together they go to the auction to buy back their bros.

They manage to get there in time to buy Dean but they were too late to save Cas who was already bought back by Ruby. Dean is furious, of course, and wants to run I guns blazing and burn everything to the ground. Sam calms him and Jess comes up with a plan B because she's Jess and she's awesome like that.

So Jess goes to Ruby's house and tries to talk Ruby into selling Cas an Gabe. Ruby, of course, wants nothing to do with this plan and throws them all out of the house. Dean gets angry all over again, smashes some stuff, and Sam has to calm him down again.

There's a quick scene of Ruby handing Gabriel over to (gasp) Crowley because she likes Cas' pretty black wings better. Crowley was the one who helped her find the angel brothers with the condition that she would give one of them to him. Crowley's a big time drug dealer, the one who's been rustling everyone's feathers in the news reports, and he has a new drug he needs to experiment with. Quick, horrifying scene of Gabriel trying desperately to get away as Crowley injects him with the new drug.

Dean and Sam break into Ruby's house during the night while Ruby's away and steal Cas back but they can't find Gabe. Cas is distraught because he knows Crowley has Gabe but he doesn't know where Crowley is. Somehow…Jess tracks Crowley down and the boys plan an attack (that part was all still very wishy-washy).

Anyway, they break into the warehouse where Gabe's supposed to be and get into a fight with some guards. Crowley captures them and he's just pleased as punch to have another angel and two demons to mess with. Dean demands that Crowley let Gabe go and Crowley laughs in his face and prepares to inject Cas with the new drug. Dean absolutely loses his shit and he gets so furious and so passionate and so protective that he manages to breath fire. Crowley's minions all freak out and panic, which gives Sam the chance to break free, loose the others, and start fighting. Dean joins him and tells Cas to go find Gabe.

Cas fights his way with his badass sword all over the place until his finds Gabriel and a whole bunch of other Unnaturals trapped by Crowley. He frees them all and drags Gabe back up the stairs to where the others are still fighting. And the Winchesters are very obviously losing. Gabriel tries to help them but his powers are on the fritz because of the drug and it's all Castiel can do to contain his brother's powers. Things are looking really bad and it's starting to look as though they're either all going to captured, killed, or crushed under the flaming warehouse.

Then Balthazar and a troop of Empyrean soldiers burst into the warehouse and subdue Crowley and all his men. Balthazar reveals that Jess called him because she hadn't heard from the boys in a long while. Balthazar has a lot of influence with a lot of people and uses that to arrest all the bad guys he can.

Everyone's packed into a medical helicopter to be flown back to Empyrean at which point Balthazar makes some vague explanation about kidnapping and laws and treaties to waffle over what's happened. Everyone's exhausted and sore and injured but they're happy to be together again and on the flight back "Carry On My Wayward Son" plays because it has to and Gabriel makes some weak, snarky remark about how he's the only one with out a mate and Dean and Sam tease him and say that one of them could adopt him.

TIME SKIP!

A whole bunch would have been dedicated to Jess and Sam's wedding with specific rituals for demon bonding ceremonies and Dean was the best man and it would have been gorgeous and lots of dancing and sappy things.

Gabriel owns his own candy shop that I hadn't thought of a clever name for and he might or might not have been seriously flirting with his shop assistant, Tyriel.

Dean and Cas are living together and people tease them about marriage proposals but there are rumors that Dean's thought about it though there's nothing concrete yet. Lots of warm fuzzy endings and some one-liner, cliché ending thing about how their life was like a sappy romance novel would have wrapped it all up.

* * *

And that was Sappy Romance Novel.

I'm really sorry I didn't get the motivation to finish it because I was especially looking forward to writing the part where Dean breathes fire (and he would have been able to do that from then on and be a show off). But I enjoyed writing it while I still had it in me to do it and I'm glad I worked up the guts to do a full length, it was a lot of fun and it was totally worth it.

You guys are amazing, by the way. I'm just sayin'. You were so understanding about the fact that I couldn't finish this and it means a lot to me that you didn't yell at me or any of that angry stuff. Thank you so much, and thank you for reading this and commenting on it and taking the time out of your lives to read this and just—gah, you're all so awesome and I don't deserve all the attention you gave this! You are some of the nicest reviewers I have ever had and I'm honored that you enjoyed this as much as you did. It was fun for me to write and I know I'm kind of repeating myself but it's hard to put this much gratitude into words.

Thank you all for everything. I adore each and every one of you and wish you luck in all your future endeavors, no matter what fandom you may find yourselves in!

Happy hunting!

-Hoseki


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